


Dark Hope

by NeverBeyondRedemption



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crash Landing, Darth Vader Redemption, Dathomir (Star Wars), Endor, F/M, Jedi, Rebellion, Sith, Sith Empire, Suitless Darth Vader, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-07-10 17:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverBeyondRedemption/pseuds/NeverBeyondRedemption
Summary: Hope can be found in the darkest of places, and even a small spark can be nurtured to become a flame. A flame that blazes the way to a new beginning.Padme Amidala fights for freedom, aiding the fleeing Jedi as the dark enforcers of the Empire grow ever closer. Little does she know the blessing that will soon come her way; the spark that could change the course of history.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting: Anakin Skywalker was never found by the Jedi and was instead trained as a Sith. The Galaxy continued as canon, with the clone wars and Palaptine manipulating his way to power, until Vader was suddenly brought to light when he stormed the Jedi Temple. Four years later the Rebellion are beginning to build their first large base on Yavin 4 and Vader had been sent to chase them.   
> Vader is a well known figure, his terrifying armoured suit making him almost invincible in combat, before his tremendous skill with the force is brought into account.

The darkness was thick with imminent danger, the tension radiating off the men could have been cut with a knife. A collective flinch as a metallic clunk shuddered through the ship. He adjusted his grip on the worn blaster.

Silence.

Blaster fire lit up the other side of the door, glowing through the cloudy window. Screams, followed by the thud of something heavy hitting the door. The window went dark again.

Silence.

A neat rectangle of sparks cut through the dark; ominous hissing almost masked by the shuffling of soldiers. An officer called out a single word command. His finger found the safety catch and flicked it off.

The door crashed backwards to the floor, glowing edges framing yet more impenetrable darkness. For a moment there was silence.

A green bolt of light flashed through the doorway and became lost in the flare of return fire. Unseen voices cried out, ozone and burned flesh seared the air. A flailing arm smacked across his back, throwing him forwards.

A crimson bar stretched into life, flickering like a tongue of flame reaching for new fuel. It licked out, flicking red bolts back up the corridor.

Sith.

The call came to fall back.

Another door, another corridor. Closer and closer to the bridge as the red bolts became less frequent.

One last desperate stand before the nerve centre of the ship, and the precious cargo it contained. Ground troops fought side by side with pilots in the harsh imperial light glaring through the windows. Still in the dark, the red blade spun and twisted closer.

His familiar blaster was snatched from his hands, soaring away to be lost in the shadows of the corridor. Silence fell over them, allowing the ominous hissing of a respirator to be heard for the first time.

Thud, hiss, thud, hiss. He could barely hear it over his own ragged breathing, yet at the same time the sounds seemed to be the only thing he could hear.

A monstrous figure emerged from the darkness which seemed to cling to his cloak. The sterile light of the hangar reflected ghoulishly off polished armour as the saber retracted with a buzz.

When the demon spoke it was with a deep baritone, ordering troopers forwards. The defenders were roughly apprehended. Arms twisted behind their backs, binders locked painfully tight. He was roughly searched and forced at blaster point into the corner of the cockpit. The four of them.

‘My Lord.’ It was one of the troopers, he stood by the nav computer. ‘I have retrieved the hyperspace coordinates. They were headed for the Endor system.’ The trooper handed a data chip to his commander, and with it, the rebellion.


	2. An Unintended Prisoner

It had already been a long day for Padmé Amidala of Naboo. A former senator of the republic, she had sworn to fight for democracy when she joined the rebellion. She hadn’t quite realised how rough it would be living in the half formed base. She splashed herself again with the frigid water, trying unsuccessfully to not flinch away as it touched her skin.

Giving up, despite the slime of soap still on her skin, she wiped herself down with her dirty shirt and pulled her spare over her head. She then pulled the mattress off her desk, piling it and her blankets in one corner of the room. She pulled her data pads out, only to drop them again as an alarm screeched through the base.

For a moment she froze, then she grabbed her bag, shoving data pads into it. The door burst open and a group of soldiers rushed in. Suddenly the room was very crowded as they swept through, tearing cables off the wall and rushing out with her desk and mattress. In seconds she was in an empty cave again.

A calm voice announced that the empire had landed troops. The corridor was chaos, armed men running up to the surface to fight. Yet others followed technicians in swarms, weighed down by anything that could be salvaged. Padmé turned left, following behind a large alien using its many appendages to carry stacks of data chips.

She followed the alien to the hangar, only having to fight the flow for a couple of meters as she crossed into the command centre. The usually bright room was darkened to allow the displays to be seen more easily. She ducked around a glowing blue display and the officers grouped around it, heading for the main terminal.

‘nothing suspicious. It must be nothing more than luck!’ Rieeken finished.

‘This is not mere luck, Admiral.’ Master Windu gestured to the display which showed an armada of imperial ships. Padmé was by no means a military commander but it seemed unlikely that that many ships just happened to stumble upon the base at once. Even then it would have been impossible to detect the facility from space – the iron rich minerals that made up the surface disrupted scanners.

‘We must have a spy.’ Ackbar insisted, clearly pushing a point he had already made.

‘Sir, there is a chance the coordinates were gained from _The Aspiration_. If they were pulled from hyperspace by an _Interdictor_...’

He was interrupted by the whir of computers losing power. For a second there was silence, before the command centre erupted into chaos. If the power was down, so was the deflector shield. With a whine, the emergency lighting kicked in, bring with it another flurry of action. With no power, there was no use being in the command centre. Technicians gathered data tapes, passing them on to the rebel leaders as they rushed out the room. Padmé was handed a stack, then a box of computer parts nearer the door.

The base shook with the imperial bombardment, iron dust rained down from the ceiling. She ducked instinctively, joining the flow of people, then ducking out as she reached her ship. The Nubian was by far the sleekest ship the rebellion owned, shining chrome plating gleaming in the emergency lights.

Blaster fire echoed, men screamed. A large ship roared out overhead, its wake buffeting her and scattering the data chips. She dropped to her knees, scraping the chips back into a pile, along with copious handfuls of dust. Her heart pounded as her fingers scrabbled, hoping that she hadn’t left an important chip behind.

Someone was beckoning to her from the ramp of the ship, she hurried towards them, limping awkwardly as she tried to keep a chip from sliding out with her hip. They clattered from her hands just as she reached the top and a quick scramble stopped any falling over the edge.

‘Is that everyone?’ She demanded, passing the chips off to Antillles.

‘Just Commander Kenobi.’ Came the answer, but they were agitated; nobody wanted to be sitting around waiting for the imperials to arrive. She felt little better, but tried not to show it, drawing her blaster and peering down the ramp.

Obi Wan came tearing around the corner, his saber a slash of light as his arms pumped. Padmé called for him, his eyes zeroed on them and he shifted course slightly. Then the reason for his flight became clear. Vader strode after him, his approach unstoppable and inevitable, but at least Obi Wan would reach the ship first.

Then she saw her. The little girl, a Togruta or Twilek by the head tails, curled in a sobbing ball behind a tumbled supply crate. Perhaps she was an orphan, they weren’t uncommon in the rebellion, especially on a large base like Endor.

The decision was spilt second, instinctive. If she’d paused to think it through she would have realised how stupid it was. Even as Obi Wan leaped up the ramp, she launched herself down it, her momentum carrying her the distance to the child. She scooped her up with one arm, her fingers closing about warm skin. She skidded and crashed to her stomach, which probably saved her life. Red hummed through the air where her torso had been seconds before.

Everything slowed down. She noticed the way the emergency lights glinted off that helmet, the slight crackle of the saber. Obi Wan’s voice sounded far away, Sabé was screaming her name, but it sounded like it came from underwater. She saw the ceiling above them, a sheet of metal the size of a freighter tear away. Vader moved, but too late. The metal blocked all light, Vader crumpled beneath it. A heavy weight crushed her.

..................................................................................................................................................................

She can’t have been out for more than a second, perhaps she had only blinked. She could feel her fingers, her toes. Sabé was still screaming, engines rumbled overhead. The child whimpered beside her, protected by the fallen crate she was still behind, and the body that lay atop hers.

It was Vader that crushed her lungs. She wheezed. His reputation for preventing people breathing seemed slightly ironic now. His armoured body must have taken the brunt of the blow, saving both her and the youngling. She needed to attract attention; otherwise they would leave without her. She tried to call out, her voice a wheeze. Then she banged against the metal plate. It was awkward and not very loud, even in the enclosed space. She managed to turn her head, seeing the landing gear of the ship. Vader’s comlink was buzzing, she could reach it.

She snatched it off his belt, tugging until the clip broke. With an awkward flick of her hand, the small piece of buzzing plastic skittered out, towards the ramp and came to a stop just as Obi Wan turned away.

She sagged, defeated.

Then the boots paused, turned. A hand reached down, lifting the comlink. Hope flared in her chest, then suddenly the metal lifted. The pressure on her lungs eased and she wrigged out from beneath the Sith Lord quickly. He moaned and she froze, torn. He was still alive, injured certainly if the crumpled metal of his helmet was anything to go by. It went against every principle to just leave him to die – because he certainly would, hidden beneath this metal sheet, but he was a Sith. He was the enforcer, one of many but by far the worst, the enemy.

She shook her head, knowing even as she did it that it was foolish. A tug had the child moving, then she scooped her arms beneath Vader's elbows. He was heavy, so heavy that she could barely shift him. Her friends knew her too well to think she would abandon her efforts, and someone soon joined her, then another pushed her out the way. As two of her guards dragged the unconscious Sith out from under the metal, she followed.

Something clattered away from her foot and she looked down, scooping up the saber without a pause. Obi Wan let the metal fall to the ground with shuddering crash, sweat pouring down his face.

The pilot gunned the engines before the ramp closed behind them, soaring into the mess of space. Padmé trusted her pilots and knew that she was better suited to follow Sabé to the cabin. Vader was already on the bed, but nothing had been done with him yet. They prioritised her.

Her shirt was stripped off, a scanner run over her chest, her legs and arms. A smear of bacta went to the scrape on her elbow but there was little to do for the bruises. They would be impressive given a couple of hours. Now, in the bright light of the cabin it was clear just how much of the damage Vader had saved her from.

His helmet was crumpled, caved in near the back. His shoulder armour was also damaged, cracked and twisted and she worried that they wouldn’t be able to take that armour off at all.

A jolt shook the ship and she glanced around nervously as swearing sounded from the cockpit.

‘I’m fine. Look at him.’ She ordered, shrugging her shirt back on. The reality of who their prisoner was started to sink in. She helped Sabé remove the helmet, a kind of morbid excitement running through her as the face of their enemy was revealed for the first time.

He was human, blond hair matted with crimson blood. The helmet had taken the worst of the damage but there was an impressive cut on the back of his head which oozed blood.

‘That’s a serious injury. He might have a concussion, or worse. All I can do is stop the bleeding.’ Sabé murmured, pressing lightly on the injured area. The prisoner stirred, but didn’t wake. Padmé passed her bacta and a dressing, which Sabé applied sparingly. Bacta was expensive and although she had hesitated at leaving him to die, she wouldn’t waste premium medical resources on him. Then came the shoulder. They left him lying face down, the shoulder plates proved easy enough to unbuckle, then Sabé took a vibroblade, slicing through the thick fabric of the suit. It was tough and they had to tug and pull to get the knife to cut through. Twice, they blunted the blade before they could finally fold it back to show his shoulder.

She had almost hoped for a prosthetic by the damage to the suit. At least then the pain receptors would fuse and he wouldn’t feel anything. It wasn’t. His shoulder was dislocated and the upper arm certainly broken. Bruising already blossomed across his body, over the brand that signified his loyalty to the Sith.

‘Can you fix him?’ Padmé asked uncertainly, the gruesome sight of his arm making her feel slightly queasy.

‘I can. You see if you can get the rest of this suit off him though.’ Sabé handed her the blade and she finished cutting, the sound of the blade sawing at the fabric almost masking the sickening sounds of Sabé’s efforts.

Once she had cut the length of his back, it was much easier to peel the suit off. He wore a dark shirt and trousers beneath the suit. She confiscated his tool belt, the lightsaber she had picked up feeling heavy folded into her robes. He carried little of interest; a small first aid kit with some bacta and medicine, a water purifier and a rebreather. His comlink had been left behind and a grappling hook was neatly coiled. She had hoped for intel, or something valuable at least.

The hyperdrive moaned, sounding unhealthy but it remained engaged. She hurried into the cockpit and the pilot’s faces did little to quell her fears.

‘How far can we get?’ She asked Obi Wan, who looked up from the computer.

‘Far enough to make us difficult to find, but not far enough to make the rendezvous.’ He replied, his eyebrows furrowing.

‘What’s damaged?’ Her understanding of mechanics was limited, but she understood the basics.

‘The cooling system for the hyperdrive; we can manage short hops, perhaps an hour at a time.’ One of the pilots replied.

‘Can we fix it?’ She asked anxiously. The yacht had no cells to hold their volatile and highly dangerous prisoner, nor did they carry a sedative. If they couldn’t reach civilisation soon... they might not reach it at all.


	3. System Errors

His head hurt; a splitting, throbbing pain that almost masked the pain in his arm. He was on a bed of some sort and something was wining mechanically. As to where he was; he had no idea. He tried to remember… nothing. He drew up blank.

He forced his eyes open. They felt gummy, sticky, as if they hadn’t opened in a long time. Immediately, someone started shouting and he frantically took in the area around him. He was somewhere very white, trimmed in silver. Someone stepped up close to him, their shadow blocking out the white light. He blinked rapidly, trying to see who it was. There was something pointed right between his eyes – black, like a long tube with a handle. It took a while before his mind connected the dots. That was a blaster. He was being held at gunpoint, perhaps by the people that had injured him.

He struggled to sit, pain spearing through his arm and head when he moved. The blaster jabbed firmly into his skull and he froze, dots spiraling in front of him.

Then someone else was there, and he was heaved to his feet by his good arm. The world dipped and spun around him and he staggered, the man hauling him upright with a growl. Finally able to look down, he saw that he was topless, with a thick set of cuffs around his wrists and some kind of solid white plate over his upper arm. He wore nothing on his feet, but at least he still had black trousers. So he was definitely a prisoner.

He wondered what he had done wrong.

They marched him – or rather, dragged him – at blaster down several pristine white corridors with almost purple lighting. That mechanical whine grew louder, then suddenly cut off. He was certain he could fix the problem, which was strange, because he didn’t even know what the problem was. He was thrown in a room, falling heavily without the support of his guard. Pain lanced through his arm and his head cracked against the floor, this time the front.

Then came another voice. This was a woman, authority ringing in her tone.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded. He lay still, hoping the woman wouldn’t hurt him too.

‘Commander Kenobi wanted him moved as soon as he was conscious.’ A man said, the deference in his tone marked this woman as someone of higher rank.

‘Moved and abused are two very different things, Dod.’ Suddenly there was a set of cool hands on his skin, running over the back of his head, then trailing down his sore shoulder. He groaned in pain as her fingers brushed the worst part of his shoulder.

‘Mi’lady, its dangerous to be so close to him.’ Dod almost begged her. He didn’t feel particularly dangerous, particularly right now. In fact, he was feeling rather the opposite, as his head continued to throb painfully.

‘I think we both know he’s not going to do anything right now.’ The woman snapped. He agreed, he didn’t think he would even know what do if he could do something. He heard the man walk slightly further away, and wondered if perhaps the woman might be able to explain what was going on to him now they were alone.

‘What happened?’ His voice was croaky, rough. He wondered if she even understood. She paused, her hand freezing as she inspected that plate on his arm.

‘You were hit over the head. We dragged you out from underneath the debris.’ She answered. He tried to think back, wondering what he had been doing but met nothing but a blank. He knew that wasn’t the full truth, but he knew better than to press.

‘What happened to my arm?’ He asked next. She didn’t hesitate this time.

‘It must have happened when you got hit over the head.’

‘Why am I a prisoner?’ He asked, and this time she completely froze.

‘You don’t remember?’ She sounded strange, perhaps frightened. He confirmed the negative, immediately regretting it as the movement renewed the throbbing in his head.

‘There’s a war. A group of us are trying to gain our freedom.’ He didn’t need her to say more, it was clear that he was on the other side of this war. He didn’t understand why though, if these people were fighting for their freedom. That idea seemed incredibly important to him, the concept of freedom struck a chord inside him, although he had no idea why. Perhaps he hadn’t realized?

‘Freedom is important.’ He agreed. The woman froze again and he could almost feel her eyes on him. Had he been an advocate against her freedom? Perhaps there was a reason why they weren’t free, maybe they were all criminals? Dod seemed like he could be, but he couldn’t imagine this woman doing anything to lose her freedom.

‘I’ll bring you some water.’ She said as she finished refastening the straps on the thing on his arm. He said nothing as she left, still pondering this war she claimed he had fought in. He managed to push himself up against a nearby wall, and finally looked around the room for the first time.

It was less white than the corridors, with grayish pipes running the length of the room. The lighting was less purple and dimmer too, as though it was not meant as a living space. There were shelves, all empty but patches of dust signaled that the room had only been recently cleared out. The door was closed but there was a pad by the left hand of the frame. He could only assume it had been disconnected to stop him leaving.

That mechanical whine started again, this time much closer. He must have been moved nearer whatever was broken. Unbidden a word came to his mind, one that was intimately familiar but strange none the less. Hyperdrive, he knew that the problem was with the hyperdrive.

The woman returned, a bottle of water in her hand. She was stunning, dark hair pulled up into a neat bun, the dark khaki uniform she wore was practical but no less attractive. She look kind, although her expression was grave as she looked down at him.

‘Your hyperdrive is damaged.’ He commented and the woman tensed. ‘I’m a mechanic.’ The words flowed off his tongue as if he’d said them many times before, and he realised as he said them that they were true. The excitement that prickled at this discovery was quickly quashed by the expression on the woman’s face. He was certain he had been a mechanic though, had he built something terrible, a weapon that had been used against them?

He offered to fix it for her, she snatched the water bottle back and stormed from the room.

He was left in silence, wondering what exactly he had built that had made him so terrible. Dod had called him dangerous, so it must have been something that killed people, but that still didn’t make sense. He couldn’t figure out why he would fight against people looking for freedom.

There was nothing in the room that could help him, and he had offended the woman by offering to fix the hyperdrive.

He resigned himself to silence and pondered the questions.

The door slid open again. This time a man stood in the doorway, dressed in one of the strangest outfits he’d ever seen. He wore a thick brown robe over cream tunics. His tool belt was empty, although there were attachment points for several different things, so he must have emptied his belt before coming in. The man took a seat on the floor opposite him.

‘My name is Obi Wan Kenobi.’ The man said simply, but his eyes were darting around, taking in his posture, his injuries and the room around them. He scrambled for the reply, but found he couldn’t remember his name.

‘I don’t remember my name.’ He said honestly, a tinge of worry clouding his voice.

‘We can come back to that.’ Obi Wan said calmly. ‘Padmé says you remember being a mechanic?’ Padmé must be the woman, it sounded like a woman and the name suited her.

‘I think so.’ He replied uncertainly, Obi Wan nodded as if his thoughts were miles away.

‘Do you remember anything else? How about the galactic empire?’ the man asked, watching him intently. He got the strangest feeling that the man wasn’t just looking at him, it was almost as if he was being prodded. The man’s hands remained neatly folded in his lap. His thoughts flew like a whirlwind. He didn’t remember an empire, but he assumed that was who Padmé was fighting for freedom from. He could see why, even the name sounded evil.

‘Is that who you’re fighting against? Was I part of this empire?’ he leaned forwards, eager to unravel more of his past.

‘Yes. Would you like to have a look at the hyperdrive? You won’t be allowed to touch it, but you can see if you can tell us what’s wrong.’ He was surprised at the offer, but he was only too happy to help, especially if it could make up for whatever weapon he had made in the past. He couldn’t possibly have knowingly fought against these people’s freedom.

Obi Wan helped him up, holding his arm to steady him as his head swum. He was lead through the door, and down a bright corridor. They took a door on the left, which led to a circular room, lit orange and with a blue glowing, incredibly complex looking box like machine poking out of the floor in the centre. Even as he looked at it blankly, his mind supplied a name – Nubian.

He remembered the instructions he had been given – look, don’t touch. So he did, Obi Wan Kenobi following him as he peered into the machine. He had no idea what he was looking at, the complex wiring, flashing lights and blue glowing tubes. His attention was drawn to a smear of black, stark against the pristine metal case.

‘There.’ He pointed it out. Words began spilling from his mouth, explaining that an energy surge had overloaded the pump. He had no idea where this knowledge had come from, just that it must have been a subconscious memory as a mechanic. He informed the man that he could fit a spare if they had one, or he could repair the original once they weren’t flying. Whatever subconscious memory he had of parts, better transfer to practical, he realised, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise. Although, he was fairly confident, because the longer he looked the more of the hyperdrive was making sense. Names popped up from nowhere and he easily identified where he would have used a quad core infuser and bypassed the injector; that would increase the fuel efficiency, as well as the sublight speed.

Obi Wan Kenobi nodded and he was lead back to his room –cell- where he found a bag of some kind of food. It was mushy, some kind of textured fibre in a sauce of some kind. Either way, he ate it because that same instinct that said freedom was valuable said that food was as well.


	4. Another Happy Landing

‘He does know his way around a hyperdrive.’ Obi Wan remarked, joined the rest of them in the lounge, ‘and he remembers nothing.’

‘It’s rare, but memory loss isn’t unheard of with head wounds and he did take quite a blow.’ Sabé added.

‘Is he a danger to us?’ Typho asked, concerned for her security as ever.

‘Not at the moment, although he most certainly will be if he regains his memory.’ Obi Wan answered and everyone paused as they pondered this.

‘Most people do recover their memory eventually.’ Sabé said as every eye turned to her. ‘Sometimes within days, other times it takes years.’

‘So he’s like a time bomb.’ Typho summarised.

‘If we can get back to the alliance before he regains his memory, we won’t need to worry anymore.’ Padmé said decisively. ‘In the meantime, he has said he can fix our hyperdrive once we are planet side. So let’s set a course for the closest planet and then we can rendezvous with the fleet.’

There was a mutter of agreement, particularly as the hyperdrive was cut off for yet another cooldown cycle. They were getting nowhere, their progress painfully slow. They’d be lucky if the imperial fleet didn’t catch up with them.

‘We’ve set a course for Toprawa, its imperial controlled but their presence there is faint.’ One of her men informed her. She nodded, allowing that information to fall to the back of her mind. She didn’t particularly mind where they went and they had already agonised over the possibilities. She knew when other people were better qualified to make a decision.

‘How long until we arrive?’ She asked, mentally calculating the rations they had onboard.

‘A day, with this stopping and starting, but once the drive is fixed we can make it to the alliance in a couple of hours.’ The pilot answered and she nodded sagely. The rations would last if they were careful but the ship was carrying far more people than it was ever meant to carry.

She found Sabé and Ellé in the galley, playing with the little Twi’lek girl she had rescued, who still refused to speak to her for some reason. They fell silent as she came in and the girl watched with wide eyes as she double checked the stores and hid all the snack food. Alliance soldiers were incredible unrestrained when it came to eating the snack food without thought for later in the voyage. She escaped the awkward silence quickly and retreated to her room.

There was blood on the sheets still from where they had tended to Vader, so she stripped them and chucked them into the garbage chute. The medikit was still out, so she packed that up too, then took out her data pad, browsing the reports she had been intending to read before the attack. Several were now irrelevant, so she deleted them; lists of supplies, fuel quantities... someone would collate data on what had been saved but there was little point in dwelling on how much had been left behind.

Her mind kept drifting to the prisoner just down the corridor, the Sith who believed he was a mechanic. Perhaps he had been at some point, he could have been anything before he appeared with the host of other Sith after the dissolution of the Republic. Then again, he was very young, to have been a mechanic before he learned those Jedi-like skills. She wanted to ask more questions, to know who the man behind Darth Vader was, to see how he could commit such atrocities. She wondered what had happened to him, what memory had changed that commitment to freedom and justice.

She threw down her data pad and stalked through the ship until she reached the store room he was being kept in.

He leaned against the wall opposite the door, his legs pulled up to his chest. He must be freezing, she realised, with no shirt on in space. There were unlikely to be any spare clothes on the ship, but she was confident that she could at least find him a blanket. She remembered his shirt being dropped to the floor of her room, and after a brief search she found it had been kicked under her bed.

The cut they had made to access his shoulder was easily repairable, but she would need time, so she took one of the blankets instead. His lightsabers fell out from beneath her pillow with a loud clatter and someone called out to see if she was okay. She replied that she had dropped her data pad with a nervous laugh, hoping that it came off as embarrassed. Then she bent down and picked up the metal cylinder.

It didn’t look evil. It was heavy, much heavier than she had expected but the weight was reassuring. The hilt was thicker than Obi Wan’s with pronounced ridges around the hilt for grip. It wasn’t all black as she had expected and the button to activate it was more obvious. She glanced furtively around, then held it away from her, activating it with a snap. The blade was crimson, but it glowed so brightly the centre was almost white. The blade itself was thin, delicate, but deadly. She could feel the heat emanating from the blade. She lifted her finger and the blade retracted, the room feeling dim afterwards.

Quickly, she hid the lightsabers back under her pillow and snatched up the blanket. She would give these to him, then return to her room. Once there, she would forget about him entirely, write up her report on their escape and catch some sleep before they landed.

..................................................................................................................................................................

She had never been to Topwara in person but it was a pleasant, if not a little boring planet. The air was breathable, the vegetation similar to that of Alderaan but without the spectacular mountains. They landed in a clearing in some woods, barely large enough for the ship and a long way from the major cities. The imperial presence was small, as she had been told, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t be cautious.

The crew left the ship to stretch their legs, but she was more interested in the reason they had landed. Obi Wan had brought Vader to the engine room as soon as they had shut down and she sat in the corner as the Sith worked. He called for tools, and Padmé did her best to pass them, once he was done with it, he would slide the tool back across the floor to her and she would pass him the next one. Obi Wan stood over him, hand on the lightsaber that was concealed up his sleeve. Her mind momentarily flashed to the weapon beneath her pillow but she forced herself back on track.

He hadn’t lied, he was an excellent mechanic, one of the quickest she had ever seen despite claiming to have only a subconscious recollection of how everything worked. He quickly detached a box about the size of her head, and began to methodically strip it. She rolled screw drivers and wire strippers, solder and a coil of wire. After less than an hour, before her crossed legs were even beginning to get sore, he asked her to slide the covers back.

Suddenly, she heard shouting and the pilot burst into the room.

‘They’ve found us!’ He shouted and dread trickled down her spine. The hyperdrive wasn’t back together and they were grounded.

‘Sublight is operational.’ Vader answered quickly and the pilot goggled at him. The Sith’s fingers were a blur as he twisted wires back together and tightened nuts.

‘Go on then!’ Padmé finally snapped the pilot out of his surprise and he jumped, dashing to the cockpit. All thought of allowing Vader only one tool at a time was forgotten as she jumped forwards to help him. The sublight engine purred to life as they tightened the last bolt, but none of the hoses were reattached yet.

‘This one’s busted.’ Vader shoved a short section of hose into her hand and she scurried to the spares kit, rummaging desperately for a replacement.

‘I’ve got a bigger one?’ she offered, tossing it in his direction. He didn’t reply and she took that to mean it would work.

‘Duraputty?’ Vader questioned. She tossed the tub at him, then snatched up the blowtorch. He jammed the oversized hose on, packed putty around the seal and moved on to the next as she hardened it with the torch.

The ship jerked as they were hit by fire. She stumbled and he grabbed her, setting her upright again.

‘We need to burn out the air.’ He said, ‘Get the pilots to hit the ignition sequence, but don’t engage.’ Padmé nodded, stumbling out of the room as they were shaken by impact after impact. She conveyed Vader’s message to one of the soldiers, who rushed up to the cockpit to speak to the pilots.

‘A star destroyer!’ Someone shouted, then Vader called form behind her that the hyperdrive was ready.

The message was relayed up the ship and she heard the whine build, then suddenly it all went silent. Her heart ran cold as she heard the words from the cockpit getting passed down the ship like a whisper of death. They had lost power to the sublight engine. They were adrift in space with a star destroyer – no, three, now that she looked out the window, closing in on them.

‘We’ve lost power to the sub light engine.’ She shouted, plunging back into the engine room. Vader was already working on a different area, the emergency lights casting his face in stark crimson shadows. She considered briefly if he had been the one to cause the problem, but his face was twisted in genuine worry as he spliced wires.

‘I'm bypassing the sublight engine, it’s completely cooked. Tell the pilots to plot a hyperspace course along this heading and we’ll make the jump with whatever speed we have left.’ He instructed. He was running cables across the room now, joining a glowing plug on the wall to one opposite, then back the way he had come.

‘That’s impossible.’ She stated numbly and he fixed her with a cool stare, despite the urgency with which he worked.

‘The only other option is death.’ He replied and she finally nodded. It was crazy but it might just work. How they would get out at the other end was a different matter entirely but she had to give it a try.

Once more she passed on the message, and her people didn’t argue, although she could see their fear in their eyes. Confirmation came a moment later and the hyperdrive began to rumble, she’d never been able to hear it before, always masked by the sound of the main engine. They shuddered, the gravity compensators failing to act. She grabbed onto a doorframe as the ship accelerated, the hyperspace engine engaged and there was a sound like a whip crack, then silence.

Everyone breathed. Those that had been thrown backwards stood up. They shared a look. Then people began cheering.

She returned to the engine room to find Vader waiting, back against the wall and nursing his injured arm. The room was a web of wires and it was like climbing through a jungle to reach him. She heard Obi Wan following her, probably having just returned from the cockpit. Vader’s eyes flicked up to them and Obi Wan took a seat on the floor, his robe splaying out around him. Padmé followed suit.

The Sith looked exhausted, sweat glistened on his brow and his hair was dark with sweat. Obi Wan passed him a bottle of water from somewhere among his voluminous robes. He took it gratefully, gulping down the water.

‘Do you remember your name yet?’ the Jedi asked. To their prisoner, the question was a friendly one, perhaps from a concerned friend. To Padmé it was a loaded question because if he remembered, then he also remembered who they were.

‘No.’ He answered, his brow creasing. The scar that ran down his right eye crinkled, somewhat ruining the intimidating look it gave him.

‘Why don’t you choose one?’ Padmé suggested suddenly. A sense of identity was very important, and perhaps if he stopped searching for his old name, he would be less likely to rediscover everything he had also known then. There was no denying that he was an incredible mechanic, and if their sublight engine failure was anything to go by, they would need every bit of his talent to get back to the rebellion. Vader thought for a moment, which stretched into a minute.

‘I remember...’ He began slowly, she tensed but fortunately his eyes were closed, he wasn’t looking their way. She shared a look with Obi Wan. ‘I remember a name; Ani.’ He finally finished and both rebels relaxed.

‘Ani.’ Padmé tried the name out, it didn’t fit the young man very well at all, but it was his choice. He nodded in agreement, smiling.

‘Ani, do you have any ideas about how to get planet side once we leave light speed. It’s only a short hop to Dathomir.’ Obi Wan asked and Vader’s head dropped back against the bulkhead.

‘The sublight engine needs to be completely replaced.’ He answered and Padmé sagged. She loved this ship as her last reminder of home but they would never be able to obtain a new engine.

‘So we have no sublight propulsion?’ She asked, wondering how they could land without it.

‘We’ll have to come in as close as we dare at hyperspeed and hope the gravitational pull takes us in.’ Obi Wan decided. ‘We should pack gear bags, the ship won’t survive this landing and we might not have long to get away from it.’

Padmé nodded, knowing that supplies were one of her areas of expertise, and jumped up. She left Obi Wan and Ani in the engine room to address the rest of the ship. The mood was sombre but nobody seemed surprised, instead there was a kind of grim determination as they pulled their possessions out of their bags from the Endor base. She filled a couple of bags with food and medical supplies, another with spare blaster cells and she made sure everyone had a blaster on them. Then, she instructed them to pack all their warm clothes in the remaining bags, everything unnecessary was left behind. Then she prepped herself, changing into practical boots, finishing patching Vader’s shirt and packing her own warm clothes. She packed the clothes into a bag for him – he would have to carry his own share if they survived this, then piled his tool belt into hers, along with his cloak which would be undeniably warm and his lightsaber. Her own belt went on top of that, because carrying a sharp objects was asking for problems during a crash.

The wait was terrifying, because she knew that in another two hours she could be dead, or close. It was almost a relief when she was summoned to the cockpit and told to sit in the chair at the back. It was the safest place on the ship and although she felt guilty taking it, the looks from her men were enough to quell any arguements. She would be needed to lead the way out of this; her and Obi Wan Kenobi, who had the co pilot’s seat. A Jedi was far more suited to controlling a crash than a pilot. Her mind flashed briefly to the other force sensitive on the craft and she wondered how well he would pilot this.

The Obi Wan’s hand was on the hyperspace lever and the alarm was going to drop out. He left it a moment past the countdown, then pulled hard down on the lever. The whole ship shuddered and suddenly a crimson planet filled the viewport. It grew alarmingly quickly, shadows spreading, clouds whipping past them. The ship vibrated and flames began to lick at the hull.

‘Full power to deflector shields!’ Someone shouted,

‘Extend top flaps.’

‘Hold us steady.’

‘We’re coming in too hot!’

There was a screech of tearing metal and the ship lurched.

‘We’ve lost the starboard engine.’ Some reported.

‘Losing power to the port deflector shield.’ Flames erupted down that side as the shield failed, licking up the window. She was sweating, but it was not hot. Her hands were white on the seat rests. She could see a forest in front of them, behind some mountains.

‘Pull up, pull up!’ They had to clear the mountains.

‘Three thousand.’ Some called out. The snowy peaks seemed to claw for their belly. Metal screeched again and they lurched to the right, dropping significantly.

‘Port engine lost.’

‘Extend remaining foils.’

‘No remaining foils.’ The ship was vibrating violently.

‘One thousand. Brace...’ His words were cut off as their wing clipped a nearby peak. The ship whipped around, metal screeching and spun sideways. Padmé’s head whipped from side to side, smashing into the padded sides of the chair. The people who hadn’t been strapped in where thrown around like rag dolls, alarms blared, lights flashed, mountains, sky and forest whipped past the windows.

Then one wing hit the ground and they were flipped upside down. Padmé’s seat tore from the wall and she was thrown forwards, smashing against the body of one of the pilots. Everything went black.


	5. Dathomir

He blinked slowly, hardly believing that the ordeal was over and that the ship had finally stopped moving. His arm was no better, but also no worse and he felt like a towl that someone had just wrung the water from. He’d grabbed onto the wires that bypassed the hyperdrive, driven by some unknown instinct and had been thrown into the web when the ship suddenly spun sideways. The resulting tangle had flexed and thrown him about like a rag doll, but saved him for actually hitting the walls of the ship even once. Now, he was suspended above the ceiling on a reasonably comfortable mess, he would have stayed but for the pungent smell of leaking fuel. Sublight fuel at least, but still not something one wanted to be around when the wires still sparked dangerously.

He wiggled his arms and legs furiously, determined to extricate himself from the tangle. Patience proved slightly better, but foresight eluded him. He dropped to the ceiling with a crash, searing pain in his injured arm informing him that he had certainly not helped it heal.

Once the stars faded, he pushed himself upright, then climbed over the open door. The corridor was empty, strangely undamaged despite the force of their landing but the end door was shut. He returned to the engine room, finding the toolkit tucked away in its compartment. He had to open it above his head and jump backwards out of the way, the box falling to the ceiling with a crash, denting the panels deeply enough that he was very glad it had been properly packed away. He rummaged through, finding a fusion cutter and a light. He tucked both into the waistband of his trousers, then returned to the corridor.

The window in the door held up for less than a minute under the cutter and he slithered though the small gap. The large room behind was dark, and the beam of his light revealed carnage. There were bodies everywhere, mixed with luggage and broken furniture. A liquid dripped, but it must have been a burst water tank because there was no smell of fuel. He stepped over the twisted body of a woman, knowing somehow that she was dead. The man beneath the bag was alive, unconscious and bruised but otherwise seeming okay.

A loud, somehow familiar hiss came from the other end of the room and his head snapped up to look. A bar of blue light lit the face of Obi Wan, blood glistening a dark purple down his temple.

‘Obi Wan!’ Ani called, and the man’s face snapped towards him. He was tense, but relaxed after a moment, climbing over the debris to reach him.

‘You’re alive.’ The man stated, holding that glowing bar – lightsaber, his mind supplied – higher so that he could see him.

‘Somehow.’ Ani commented dryly. ‘He is too. The woman over there isn’t.’ He gestured over to the body of the woman.

‘One of the pilots and Padmé are waiting outside. Do you remember where you first woke up?’ Obi Wan asked him. He nodded, glancing back at the small window through the door. ‘There’s two bags in her room, she needs them. There’s a couple more with food in the galley up there.’ He pointed up to where the roof curved around, a door was open opposite them.

Ani left him searching for survivors to grab the bags. There were indeed two in Padmé’s room, but several of the ones in the galley had burst. He snatched up food from the floor, stuffing as much as he could into the remaining bags. One of Padmé’s was full of clothes, the other... he picked a metal cylinder up from the bag. It was familiar and fit into his hand as though it had been made for him, it tugged at his memory and for some reason he was certain it had belonged to him.

Someone moved behind him and he quickly dropped it back into the bag, reaching down and grabbing another handful of food, stuffing it in on top. Obi Wan’s robed arms soon joined him, piling as much food as they could fit into the bag. When it was undeniably full, they closed it and took a pair of bags each. Ani slung one over his good shoulder and lugged the other behind him, whilst Obi Wan carried the other two. He followed that blue lightsaber through the ship and into the cockpit.

The windows were dug deeply into the earth, crushed plants and vegetation plastered against them. Off to one side a hole had been cut into the side, red light flooding in. They climbed through and his eyes alighted on the sorry looking group that huddled on the other side. Padmé was awake, tending to the wounded, which meant everyone. There were three others that were conscious, two of which moved around and one who sat with a dislocated knee. His bellow of pain sent curious wildlife fleeing as one woman reset it.

Dod was unconscious, his arm broken and a metal shard impaled in his leg. Next to him lay a Togruta and then another couple of humans. He dumped the bags near the middle of the group and quickly rooted through one he was certain he’d seen a medikit in. He pulled it out triumphantly and headed over to where Obi Wan was helping Padmé clean a wound. He pulled the man aside, forcing him to tend to his own head wound first and then getting delegated to help the other woman, Sabé, with resetting bones.

They must have crashed in the early morning, because they finished tending to everyone’s injuries whilst the sun was still lighting the world a crimson red.

‘We’ll need to light a fire tonight.’ Sabé decided, surveying the injured around them.

‘Not near all that leaked fuel.’ Ani pointed out and everyone had to nod their agreement.

‘We need to find another ship and get off the planet.’ Dod had come around about an hour ago, and was propped up on a bag.

‘You can hardly sit, let alone walk. We’ll be lucky if some of these people come around this week.’ Ani commented, earning a sharp look from Padmé and Obi Wan. Then the man sighed, rubbing his chin.

‘You are right, of course. We need to find somewhere safe for the injured to wait whilst we go for help.’

‘We?’ Padmé asked, casting him a look. Ani didn’t need to be a genius to know she was doubtful about bringing their prisoner along. It was easy to forget that’s what he was, but perhaps he could earn enough loyalty to become free again over this trip. He would be only too happy to help them fight for freedom afterwards.

‘We.’ Obi Wan confirmed.

Ani spent the next hour building a stretcher from scavenged parts of the ship whilst Obi Wan hunted down a safe place for the others to wait. He returned just as the sun was beginning to set, and in the dim purple light they shifted everyone up to a cave. The plan was to leave at dawn the next day, so Padmé split the rations, packing a bag for Ani, Obi Wan and herself. Sabé would remain with the injured. Meanwhile, Obi Wan gathered wood for a fire and Ani made several trips back to the wreck to collect more of the scattered food, blankets and clothes.

Night fell, and with it came cold. The fire in the cave was a blessing, warming the air but still topless, Ani wish for a shirt, or to borrow Obi Wan’s cloak. Padmé noticed him shivering and dug into her bag, pulling out something black.

‘I fixed this for you.’ She said, blushing as she held it out to him. It was a shirt, perhaps his by her reaction, a line of stitching repairing a cut down the arm. They must have had to cut it off him to fix his shoulder, he realised. The fabric was soft, of much higher quality than that the other rebels wore and he was more than glad to slip it over his head. He warmed almost instantly, and now that he was less focused on the cold, his mind drifted to his lightsaber in her bag.

He had no memory of using the weapon but he was certain it had belonged to him, perhaps he had been carrying it when he was captured. He wondered what other belongings of his she had hidden away, then he quickly squashed the slight resentment that grew. He was their enemy and it was only to be expected that they would keep his weapons until he had proved himself reliable.

‘Thank you, Padmé.’ He said quietly, then repeated his thanks as she handed him a chunk of the bread that she had just hydrated.

..................................................................................................................................................................

Another person died overnight, so they took his body to the ship and left it there before they departed, not wanting to risk attracting carrion creatures and disease to the cave. Padmé was awake and ready by the time they returned, a compass already out.

‘We need to get to high ground, see if we can figure out where we crashed.’ She said decisively and both men nodded. She gestured behind the cave towards the mountains. Ani shouldered one of the bags, strapping the arm and waist belt up tight so that he didn’t have to put the arm over his sore shoulder. Kenobi and Padmé helped each other put on theirs and then they were off.

It began pretty easy, the terrain beneath the trees was easy and open, the red light only filtering weakly to the floor. The two rebels went infront whilst Ani followed along behind, they were obviously trying not to let him overhear, but the wind was blowing their words towards him.

‘Do you think the empire has a presence on Dathomir?’ Padmé asked Obi Wan, casting a furtive glance back to him.

‘I’m not sure, Jedi are not encouraged to visit.’ Inexplicable rage thundered through him at the word “Jedi”, and although he was once again unsure where he had heard it, like freedom and the name he had chosen for himself, it carried a huge significance that he was missing.

‘What is a Jedi?’ He asked, calling up to the two ahead. Both froze and shared a look, blatantly not wanting to discuss it. He almost backed out, but then remembered the emotion he had rushed through him at the word. It was a key to his memories, he decided, he had to know what a Jedi was. He looked at them expectantly.

‘Jedi used to be the keepers of the peace in the days of the Republic.’ Obi Wan finally said, but that couldn’t be right. Even as he said it, a sense of wrongness coursed through him. Jedi weren’t peace keepers, they were evil, he was certain of it. Then, he realised, if they were evil, why were they working to free people from the empire... unless they were agents of the empire, actually trying to hinder the efforts of Padmé’s people.

So if Obi Wan was a Jedi, he needed to keep an eye on him, make sure that he did nothing to obstruct their freedom. His thoughts went to the blue lightsaber clipped to Obi Wan’s belt and he realised that his own would be the perfect weapon to counteract it should he need to. Assuming he could remember how to use it.

All thought of Jedi and freedom was driven from his mind as the terrain quickly became rougher when they emerged from the trees. They were now struggling through knee high brush, heavy with thorns and tangled briars just begging to trip them. He was grateful that Obi Wan had managed to find his boots in the wreck, although the highly polished leather articles hadn’t remained that way for long.

They struggled in silence for over an hour before finally taking a break. Ani’s shoulder ached, both of them and he felt light as a feather as he dropped his pack, gratefully dropping on top of it. Obi Wan did the same next to him but Padmé remained standing after she dropped hers.

‘There’s civilisation over there.’ She said, peering through a pair of binoculars. Ani looked in the direction she was pointing but his bare eyes couldn’t make anything out.

‘We need to be careful, it could be an imperial base.’ Obi Wan cautioned, and again Ani found himself speaking without thinking about his words.

‘There will not be a base. The emperor has an agreement with the local leader, we are not allowed to come here.’ He said it without thinking, then realised what he had said. He had no idea how he knew that, or were that snippet of memory had surfaced from, but he distinctly remembered a scene.

It was dark, his vision tinted red as though looking through a coloured film. A cloaked figure stood at the top of a short flight of stairs, surveying a city of lights. He approached the dais and knelt, bowing his head. ‘I pursued the rebels as far as the Dathomir system. I had to call off my pursuit.’

He blinked, bringing himself back to the horrified stares of his two companions, and tried to work out what he had just seen. He had no idea where the city was, where the room was or who the old man might be, but the man was heavy with importance in his mind, clashing with that value of freedom. He had knelt, like a slave to a master.

‘So the natives are imperial sympathisers?’ Padmé asked, suspicion etching her tone. Ani shook his head, trying to clear it.

‘No... I don’t know...’ He forced himself to remember, but what he had said in that memory kept drifting to the forefront of his mind. He had been pursuing rebels personally, people like Padmé. That was not the job of a mechanic. He scrambled for another memory, desperate to know who he had been. Nothing was forthcoming.

‘Are they imperial sympathisers. Are we in danger?’ Padmé knelt in front of him. Her eyes worried, the slight narrowing causing the skin to crinkle on her brow.

‘I don’t know! We’re not allowed here.’ He repeated, replaying the memory, focusing on the individual components in the hope that they would trigger something. ‘I don’t even know who I am.’ He snapped, frustration surging through him. Padmé reared back at his tone, her arms thrown up. He sighed an apology, then looked up to see Obi Wan standing ready, lightsaber drawn. Unlit, but still drawn.

‘I don’t remember anything. Whatever it is you’re so afraid of, I don’t remember it.’ He shouldered his bag and stalked off back down the hill.


	6. Rancor

She tried not to show how shaken she was as they followed Vader down the mountain. It wasn’t that he’d snapped at her, it was that his eyes had blazed a toxic yellow at the time. She knew who he was, and she had heard the theory that Sith had yellow eyes, it had just been strange to see them burning in the place of those icy blues.

The Sith in question was stomping down the hill ahead of them, heedless of the undergrowth that snatched at his clothes. Obi Wan helped her down at a slower pace, but at least this time with the racket Ani was making, they could be assured of some privacy in their conversation.

‘You don’t think he’s regaining his force abilities, do you?’ She asked the Jedi nervously.

‘I expect he will at some point, but I believe that was unconscious. He feels like a child in the force – he is strongly shielded, which I suspect is subconscious and he brushes the force instinctively, but he is like a child. Untrained.’ Padmé had no real understand of what he was saying, but the first statement had answered her question well enough.

‘Those cuffs won’t do much then.’ She stated, looking at the silver manacles that he wore, so large that they were easily visible even from this distance.

‘Actually, the controller got damaged in the crash. We can’t activate those cuffs at all.’ Obi Wan admitted, a troubled look on his face. ‘Either way, he’s like a beacon to anyone with a force sense now. If these natives are enough to halt even the emperor, I almost hope he does get his abilities back before they notice us.’

That was the sobering thought that occupied both their minds as they trekked down the hill. It was a strange planet, with its red sun. The plants were all red, of varying shades but otherwise pretty normal. The trees seemed like the pines one would find in the chilly areas of a temperate planet, common enough on mountains and the undergrowth was also normal, if a little spiky. The clouds above were a deep, ominous purple and cast deep shadows when they passed overhead.

Ani led the way for a long time, but eventually hours of walking must have taken the edge off his ire because he fell back to walk alongside them. They heard plenty of fauna, the roar of a distant beast, snakes that slithered off into the fallen leaves at their approach, red feathered birds that fell silent at their approach. They stopped only when Padmé finally dropped her pack, too exhausted to walk any further. She rummaged until she found a black blanket and curled up in it, falling asleep before either of the men had even finished putting down their bags.

..................................................................................................................................................................

She woke up when sun filtered through the leaves, brightening her eyes. She was incredibly uncomfortable, something dug into her back and her neck was at an awkward angle. She opened her eyes and sat up quickly, her neck cracking sharply. Her entire body ached, both from the crash, the exercise that day before and the sleep on the ground.

The next thing she noticed was that someone else was already up. At first she thought it was Obi Wan; the figure sat completely still, cross legged in front of the rising sun. The pose was familiar to her, so she rummaged in her bag until she found two breakfast rations and took them over to him. It was only after she had sat down next to him that she realised it was Ani. She went to leave, but he reached out a hand, faster than a striking snake and gripped her arm.

‘Don’t leave. Your presence is soothing.’ She sat back down and his grip relaxed. So they sat there in silence as the sun rose and the wildlife settled back in around them. She watched in surprise as a snake slithered right up to them, running over Ani’s crossed knees. He remained completely still and relaxed as the animal dropped off and slithered away again. One of the red birds alighted nearby, plump breasts gleaming crimson in the early morning sun.

Only when Obi Wan was beginning to stir behind them did Ani finally move, his legs uncrossing as he rose smoothly to his feet. He offered a hand down to her and she was unsettled to see his eyes glowed yellow again. He blinked and she was looking at the blue she was used to.

She handed him the ration bar, having been worried to unwrap it in case she disturbed him. He took it gratefully, unwrapping it and tucking in as though he were starving. He didn’t waste a crumb, even going so far as to empty the bottom of the packaging into his hand. They risked a small fire, desperation for caff winning out over the relatively minor risk it posed. Flames were difficult to spot on this planet anyway, so Ani remained on alert to waft any smoke that might be produced as Padmé and Obi Wan created pot of the dark drink.

Ani hated the drink and for that matter Padmé didn’t like it much either, but she had learned the value of caffeine as a senator and a hot drink was too lovely an opportunity to pass up. It was a strange thought that only a couple of days ago they had been safely ensconced in the Yavin base, where she had voiced grievances at the temperature of the washing water. What wouldn’t she have done for a wash now, with blood crusted on her skin, mud and soot matting her hair. Of course, she thought regretfully as she looked out over the flat expanse in front of them, she might regret lamenting the loss of water. Flat surfaces on cool-temperate planets usually meant marshes.

She wasn’t wrong. They picked their way down the steep embankment at the edge of the woods, perhaps a couple of hundred meters, and found themselves in the most ominous looking marsh she had ever seen. She mentioned as much, to which both men laughed.

‘You have never been to Vjun.’ Ani said dryly, using a branch to test how deep the marsh was.

‘Have you?’ Obi Wan asked and Ani shrugged.

‘I think so.’ They left it at that, not needing to interrogate him to know that his memories were returning rapidly. They were running out of time before he remembered who he was, and his reaction when he did did not bear thinking about.

‘It’s deep.’ Obi Wan observed as Ani’s branch disappeared into the mud.

‘Too deep. We’ll have to go around.’ Padmé agreed. They shared a nod before setting off at a resigned trudge to circuit the marsh. There had to be a way through somewhere.

The day was long, harder than the day before, which was something Padmé hadn’t believed possible. They stopped periodically to test the depth of the marsh using whatever they could find. It remained deep as the terrain on their left turned from forest to hills. Towering behind the hills were the mountains they had flown over on the way in. They were plagued by snakes and lizards, all red, pink and black and of unknown toxicity. The birds had gone, but their twittering had been replaced by the croaks and rattles of the swamp beasts.

‘It looks like a road ahead.’ Ani called. He had climbed the hill behind them during their lunch break in an attempt to get a better view. Padmé’s head jerked up but she didn’t have the energy to go up and have a look herself. She envied Obi Wan his force powered stamina, and was almost ready to bet Ani was beginning to draw on his own too. How else could he have climbed that damn hill?

Her legs were beginning to stiffen as she relaxed, so she stood reluctantly and shouldered her bag again. Obi Wan cracked an eye open from where he had been lying against his own pack and took the hint, picking up his own.

‘We should sleep before we leave the hills. The marshes will be treacherous and we don’t want to stray from the path.’

Padmé could do little except nod in agreement. She didn’t particularly care where they slept, so long as she didn’t have to carry this bag anymore.

Obi Wan chose a spot where the side of the hill had collapsed a bit. The exposed, earthy cliff gave them a bit of shelter from the back and couple of thigh high boulders helped to block the wind that had begun to pick up. There was no fire, but they had a quick meal of cold rations and bread before she fell asleep.

..................................................................................................................................................................

She woke with a jump, heart thundering in her chest. Ani was hovering over her, alert, with his hand wrapped over her mouth. She began to struggle, but was surprised when he shook his head urgently. Blue shadows shifted with the hum of a lightsaber, then a colossal roar shook the ground beneath her. Ani seemed to feel she understood the gravity of the situation, because he removed his hand from her mouth and they both peered over the boulders.

Obi Wan stood alone, his lightsaber the only light. He slashed the air in front of him, then flipped. A mighty paw swiped the air where he’d been minutes before.

‘He needs help.’ Padmé muttered nervously. She crawled back to her bag and opened it painstakingly, trying to compromise between pulling out her blaster fast enough to help Obi Wan and not drawing the beast’s attention. She found it, thankfully near the top and slowly began to extricate it when a cry of pain, followed by an earthy thud made her jump. Obi Wan had been caught by a swipe, throwing him into the wall, dazed. His lightsaber rolled away, extinguishing suddenly.

She felt the beast stomping towards him.

Then Ani leapt over the rocks with an incoherent battle cry. She jerked up, blaster in hand as Obi Wan’s saber jumped into his hand and ignited. The beast lumbered around to survey its new foe, Ani spun the saber and lunged at it. The beast swiped with a clawed hand and the Sith ducked, whirling up and under the beast and scoring a line down its inner thigh. The beast bellowed, and tramped backwards, missing both Ani and Obi Wan by inches.

Padmé braced her blaster on the rock, peering through the sights. The monster moved fast but Vader was faster; a whirlwind of blue light, slowly wearing away at his opponent. A flash of the saber illuminated heavy, salivating jaws, a spined tail whipped around near her head. The blaster wouldn’t do much, but if she could get the legs...

She adjusted her aim, Ani scrambled backwards away from the snapping jaws, the beast stepped forwards. She pulled the trigger.

The beast roared in agony as its leg crumpled beneath it. She followed up with two more shots, then Ani was clambering up the thrashing beast, blue saber severing the clawed hand that swiped for him. They plunged into darkness as he buried the saber deep into the beast’s skull.

Vader panted loudly, she was certain her own adrenaline fuelled breaths were of similar volume. She heard the saber retract inside the beast, then the bar extended again, casting them both in blue light. Ani was filthy, mud coating him from head to foot, she doubted she looked much better.

‘What was that?’ She asked nervously, standing from behind the rock. The beast had thick, leathery skin and was bipedal. The arms were long enough to have brushed the floor when the creature stood and joined claws tipped each one. The head was built into the torso, small eyes either side of a circular toothed mouth.

‘A rancor.’ Ani answered, or perhaps he was Vader again. ‘They’re native to here. Is Obi Wan okay?’

She rummaged in her pack until she found a light and a medkit, then had to climb over the dead rancor to reach Obi Wan. The Jedi was still unconscious, but she couldn’t see anything obviously wrong. He responded when she pinched his earlobe, so hopefully he would regain consciousness soon.

‘We’re lucky. I think Obi Wan got up to go to the toilet.’ Ani was standing next to her, that blue blade finally retracting now that he was in her bubble of light. She risked a glance up at him, noting that his eyes were very blue.

‘You saved him.’ She said quietly. He was playing with the saber, turning it over in his hands.

‘I wasn’t a mechanic.’ He finally said and she glanced up at him. He sounded a bit like he was making a confession, which she supposed he was if he didn’t know she was fully aware of who he had been. ‘I had one of these but... it was different and I answered to the emperor. I am remembering, but none of it makes sense.’

She didn’t know how to answer, so she just began using a wipe to clean off the multitude of small cuts Obi Wan had sustained.

‘I think you know who I was, but I understand why you don’t want to tell me.’ Vader bent down, reattaching Obi Wan’s saber to his belt.

‘So you remember your name now?’ She asked, forcing some levity into her voice.

‘No. I think I remember a title though, but none of it makes any sense. Will he be okay?’

Padmé didn’t know what they were meant to do now. They waited for Obi Wan to come around, huddled in the shelter of the rancor’s body. Padmé had tended to every one of his injuries, but he was still out cold, and he remained that was as pinkish light began to filter over the horizon. They needed to get moving quickly, before anything came to investigate, yet Obi Wan still had yet to do more than moan.

‘We need to condense the bags. You’ll have to carry him.’ Padmé finally decided. Ani nodded, perhaps having already come to the same conclusion.

‘I want my saber.’ He said decisively and Padmé froze. ‘Rancor are native to the marsh, I need to be armed if we encounter another.’

He made sense, but she didn’t like the idea of arming him with his weapon again. ‘I’ll give you my blaster.’

The sneer on his face was so similar to that of the Jedi at the mention of the weapon that she had to struggle not to laugh.

‘You’ll be unarmed then. I know you have my saber, just give it to me.’ She’d never realised quite how tall he was. He towered over her, his eyes tinged with yellow. It wasn’t worth the fight, she decided. He had demonstrated clearly enough that his force abilities were back, he could summon that lightsaber from Obi Wan’s belt and kill her now if he so chose. Having his own would hardly make it any easier.

‘Fine.’ She rummaged in her bag, finding his tool belt first and handing that back. His lightsaber seemed to have fallen to the bottom and she had to tip everything else out to reach it. The cool silver cylinder was almost familiar to her now and she felt a strange sense of loss as it was passed back to him. He took it with a strange expression, the snap of ignition making her jump. The red blade was strangely harmonious with the landscape and he spun it experimentally, the strange expression morphing into satisfaction, then contemplation.

‘I am not Jedi, am I.’ He said calmly. She shook her head and he nodded as though everything had suddenly become clear.

He clipped the saber to his belt and they spent the next couple of minutes in awkward silence. They dropped the clothes, most of the food and all the spare water. They would have to use the purifier in Vader’s gear to get more; although they were lucky he had it. Water purifiers were not the kind of kit the alliance could afford to just have on hand. What was left over really was a meagre supply, but they had to be close to the civilisation she had seen by now. They stripped off all but the essentials of Obi Wan’s clothes - the multiple layers of tunics and robes were only additional weight as par as Ani was concerned and as much as she knew Obi Wan would be upset at losing his precocious Jedi uniform, she had to agree with him.

They left just as the sun began to peak over the horizon, Obi Wan slung over Vader’s shoulder and Padmé carrying their only remaining bag. Her blaster banged against her hip but it was a reassuring weight now that they were crossing hostile ground. The bag was heavier than before and the short sleep had done little to refresh her, so it was almost in a haze that she turned right at what was a road. It was ancient, stone slabs creating an uneven but solid surface through the marsh. It was by no means flat – some areas rose high on an embankment; enough to see over the marsh grass, whilst other areas had them wading through knee high water.

They left dry land behind quickly, the march spreading out on either side of them. There was no real sense of time, just the trudge of her steps, the banging of her blaster and thud of Ani boots behind her. Every time they reached the top of an embankment she would peer out, hoping against hope that they would finally catch sight of civilisation.

It was during one of the low areas that Obi Wan finally regained consciousness, jerking off Ani’s shoulder with a cry, followed by a loud splash. He came up spluttering, his arms pedalling underwater as he tried to get his balance of the slick, weedy rock. Ani grabbed his collar, dragging his head above the water and towing him to the bank at the other side.

‘Good, you’re awake.’ He said as soon as Obi Wan regained his composure. ‘Ventress is here.’

‘Ventress?’

‘A nightsister, trained by Darth Tyranus. She landed about an hour ago, we should be able to steal her ship.’

‘A Sith?’ To his credit, Obi Wan regained his senses very quickly, getting to his feet. The Jedi’s eyes zeroed quickly on the saber at Ani’s side, but the Sith seemed oblivious as he gave a short description of Ventress. Obi Wan glanced at her in question and she shrugged. They could discuss it later.

They had a brief meal, then left the last bag behind. If what Ani had said was correct, they wouldn’t need it again and being unloaded would certainly be an advantage. They stuffed a couple of ration bars in their pockets and used Ani’s purifier to rehydrate.

‘We should get to high ground.’ Obi Wan decided, and they left the dip, clambering up to the rise.

‘There.’ Padmé pointed out the dark, low shape that sped over the ground. Both force users unclipped their sabers, taking a ready position.

‘Think you can hit her speeder?’ Ani asked her. She doubted it, but perhaps some fire would distract the woman. She dropped to prone, knowing that would make her more accurate and focused on the speeder. The slight magnification meant she could make out the red clothing, the purple skirt and the white, tattooed skin. The allowed some space for travel and pulled the trigger. Her shot went a long way wide, but she followed up. The woman missed every one, swerving and braking at the perfect moment, until one of the stabilisers clipped a stone. The speeder flipped, Ventress flying from the seat and out of sight below the next rise.

‘Good shot!’ Obi Wan congratulated.

‘She’s coming.’ Ani cautioned. His eyes were toxic yellow, ringed with fiery red. Obi Wan was unusually agitated next to him, shifting uncomfortably.

The clash happened faster than she could comprehend. One minute Vader was next to them, the next he stood in the dip below, crimson saber locked with crimson saber. The crackle was audible even from here as the lock turned into a whirlwind of crimson against crimson. Crashes and snaps like lightning marked the impacts of their blades with only the occasional break for some unseen battle of wills.

‘Kriff, he’s fast.’ Obi Wan muttered from beside her. He was fingering his own saber, the hilt still disactivated. It was true, although the Jedi training duels she had seen were quick, this was faster. It was more aggressive too, there was no tooing and froing; Vader hammered blows on the woman, who perhaps only kept up because she had two blades. But the Sith was exhausted and injured and Ventress was fresh, he slowed as he tired and had several close calls before Obi Wan finally jumped down to join him with an inhuman leap.

Really, there wasn’t much the assassin could do at that point. One blow from Obi Wan had her distracted enough that Ani drove his blade up through her chest, cradling her close as though they were lovers.

Padmé hurtled down the slope towards them as Ani allowed the woman to fall from his blade, his face twisted in a dark sneer. ‘We need to get to that ship.’ 


	7. ISD Reaver

The dark side of the force coursed through him with exhilarating strength, welcoming him back into its arms. With it, a lot of things had become clear, such as how he was different from Obi Wan and Padmé. However, he still didn’t understand why that meant they had to be enemies. Of course, he knew the Jedi hated the Sith and the Sith hated the Jedi, but he couldn’t understand why the differences meant they had to be enemies. Of course, he was quickly remembering that they had plenty of reason to hate _him_ , but the Sith as a whole?

Even as his memories returned, filled with pain and hatred, he could find plenty of reason to hate the Sith, especially Sidious. Yet, he found not a single reason applicable to him as to why he should hate the Jedi; every conflict had been started by him, every fight, every battle. There was that defeat thousands of years ago, perhaps the years of scorn since then, but Obi Wan seemed to be friendly. He saw no reason why he couldn’t be civil in return.

Truthfully, he was rather converted by the concept of freedom. He wasn’t sure where along the way that value had so conveniently fallen by the wayside. His mother would be ashamed, the younger him would be ashamed and even post capture Vader was ashamed. He could not for the life of him figure out how he’d managed to justify his actions to himself.

Actually, he could. That little metal chip, somewhere in his body, reporting constantly back to his master in Coruscant. It explained how they had been tracked to Topwara and why Ventress had found them on Dathomir. That little chip also meant that he couldn’t return with them to the rebellion, he couldn’t support them in their fight for the goal of every slave. Instead, he must fight for the slaver.

Neither of them spoke to him as they made their way into the settlement. It can’t have been more than an outpost, just a couple of very primitive houses surrounding a paved square, currently dominated by a ship. The Nu-class was a familiar although outdated ship, but one the alliance certainly wouldn’t turn their noses up at, not that he would willingly be caught dead in such an old hunk of junk.

There were few nightsisters around, so rather than bother with stealth, he just strolled up to the ship and used the force to lower the ramp. If anyone saw them or had a problem, he was already firing up the engines and they would have been suicidal to get close. Obi Wan dropped into the co-pilot’s chair and Ani lifted them off the ground, spinning the ship with practiced ease. He lifted them well clear of the marshes and easily back the way they had come. They covered the ground in minutes, the body of the rancor visible as they lifted left to follow the edge of the marsh.

From this height he could see how lucky they had been. The forest was a small patch of red in the massive swamp. It stretched right to the horizon on their left as they followed the marsh edge back the way they had come. There were no roads other than the one they had taken and he suspected it would have been a significantly more rushed exiting if they’d landed in the marsh. It had felt very deep even near the edges.

He felt Padmé come up behind them, peering out at the distance they had covered. They found the wreck easily enough, a scar of black earth through the crimson trees and the twisted chrome hull of the Nubian. He circled several times in an attempt to find a landing spot, then gave up and used the cannons to blast a clearing. Both Padmé and Obi Wan muttered uncomfortably but Vader ignored them and landed the ship in the space he’d made for it. He locked the doors before the others could leave and stood, facing them seriously.

‘I can’t come back to the rebellion with you.’ He said calmly, hoping his regret was plain in his voice. The two shared a look and Kenobi’s hand drifted to his lightsaber. He held his hands up to show he meant no violence. ‘I have a slave chip. The emperor can track me.’

For a moment there was silence, the two just gaped at him.

‘You’re a slave?’ Padmé gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

‘I was born one.’ He said bitterly.

‘But the Republic’s anti-slavery laws...’

‘The Republic’s laws meant nothing in the real galaxy.’ He snapped and she fell silent quickly. ‘Regardless, the emperor is my master and he holds my controller. I will return to him, but if either of you need assistance...’ He left the comment hanging, not willing to add conditions but hoping they would see them anyway.

Padmé and Obi Wan shared a long, measured look and for a moment he almost feared that they wouldn’t see sense; that they would refuse to allow him to go and he would be forced to fight them. Then both sagged and Padmé turned to him with a sad expression.

‘If we removed the chip, you could be free.’ She offered and he snorted at her naivety. The door slid open at his will and he stood, stepping past them to head outside.

The earth was charred, embers still glowing where the downdraft of the ship had extinguished flames. Ani ignored that, knowing that his boots would insulate him and no longer having a cape to worry about. He enjoyed the sound of the debris crunching beneath his boots and the sting of the smoke in his lungs was a familiar friend. He was at home in war, he understood the black and white of war, the mathematics of probability, strategy and the resultant devastation. The sounds and tastes of his surroundings reminded him that he had survived another day where others had been defeated.

He supposed he had this time too, he had survived his capture and the crash but he wasn’t sure whether he was coming out of them the same person. He was certain he had been fully committed to the empire before, but now he couldn’t possibly comprehend why he had felt that way. Part of him wanted the reassurance that everything he had worked for, the months and years he had put into decimating Padmé’s cause hadn’t been wasted. He could see that the republic was useless. He hadn’t been lying, the anti-slavery laws had been useless, the senate full of corruption, but the Empire was worse. The Emperor and his Sith didn’t even pretend to disapprove of slavery and there was only a thin veneer over the corruption – rather it was a web of pandering and lying, barely concealed atrocities.

He hated the politics either way, but at least the Republic had tried to offer freedom – had the Jedi been more involved, with the force as their allies, they could have weeded out the corruption and with a decent military, their laws could have been effected throughout the galaxy.

Ani found himself wondering whether they had visited both extremes. Perhaps with the iron fist of the Sith and a democratic government... he didn’t know or care about politics enough to know if that would work.

He discovered the inevitable a fair distance from the cave and honestly he was impressed they had done so well. He startled several red feline scavengers, their purple spots inseparable from the blood of the half burned carcasses they feasted on. Truly, it had been inevitable that most of the crash victims would die. They had no real medical facilities and it had been days since the accident, truly he was impressed the pile was this small and that those they had left behind had managed to move the injured this far.

There was almost a path worn into the crimson leaves and he followed it, weaving between the trees. The shallow cave was almost identical to how it had been left, although clearly the inhabitants had heard him blasting a landing space for their ship. Three silhouettes stood at the entrance, all looking considerably better than he suspected he looked.

He paused to let Obi Wan and Padmé catch up, knowing that approaching alone would only worry the survivors.

‘Sabé!’ Padmé cried, relief saturating her voice.

Next to Sabé stood a Zabrak, a heavy blaster slung over his shoulder and a thick, fresh bandage around his head. Standing atop a rock at the entrance was a Talpini with his arm in a sling, even still he carried a small blaster in one hand.

Ani stood back as Sabé and Padmé hugged, then the women hugged all the men and he found the whole scene rather sickening. It did provide an interesting comparison between the two groups – Padmé’s hair was a nest worse that a Shu’so web and she was caked in mud, Rancor blood and swamp water. Obi Wan seemed to have managed to miss most of the grime – his Jedi layers protecting him from the Rancor and mud but he had gotten a full submersion in swamp water which had caked his hair into a rigid board of brown. He almost dreaded to think how he looked having received the worst helping of Rancor blood, but he’d never particularly cared how he looked.

He followed the rebels into the cave, and was met by a wave of purid air. It seemed they hadn’t been doing as well as he had thought. Dod sat against the wall, his leg swollen and his eyes rolled back in his head. A Troig had lost a head and it looked as though the injury was fresh – Sabé must have amputated.

The healer quickly began to order people around. The stretcher they had made only a couple of days ago was hauled out again and the first injured man loaded onto it. Ani and Obi Wan took the stretcher and lugged it down to the ship. The Sith knew that despite his aching muscles, this would be the first of many trips.

‘You should cauterize that Troig.’ He called to Obi Wan. The Jedi didn’t falter, but called back loud enough for him to hear, despite facing away.

‘I know, but I want to wait until we’ve moved him. He doesn’t need to be conscious for this climb.’

..................................................................................................................................................................

Obi Wan co-piloted as they lifted out of the atmosphere, passing the purplish clouds at a pace that gave them the opportunity to actually admire the shade.

‘There will be a destroyer in orbit waiting for us.’ Warned Ani, just before they cleared the clouds. Padmé’s hands tensed against the back of his chair, the synth-leather creaking beneath her hands.

‘We can’t fight a battle with this many injured onboard.’ Padmé pointed out. She was right, any jolts or impacts would have terrible consequences for the health of the injured and with the terrible gravity generator and acceleration compensators on this ship, it would be almost impossible to keep the flight smooth.

‘I can get us out of here.’ He decided, taking the ship up through the last layer of clouds, ignoring the protests from the two rebels. He set a course straight for the destroyer, slashing his hand through the air to silence them. The he hailed the ship, a voice only transmission. The others in the cockpit shuffled uncomfortably.

‘ _ISD Reaver_ this is _Shuttle_ ’ He paused whilst he checked the plate above the flight controls. “ _Pyrrhus_.’

There was a hissed conversation between the two rebels as the Destroyer responded. His fingers flexed involuntarily around the controls.

‘ _Shuttle Pyrrhus_ this is _ISD_ _Reaver_ , where is Commander Ventress?’

‘This is Lord Vader, Commander Ventress is dead. I will proceed to rendezvous with the _Executor_ now.’ He could imagine the communications officer paling as he realised who he had been talking to, his voice breaking as he hurriedly passed the frequency to his commanding officer. He adjusted the power to the thrusters, altering their course and setting the nav computer to prepare for a jump to Mygeeto; an imperial outpost nearby Dantooine, which he was fairly certain had rebel activity.

He was about to begin warming the hyperdrive when the _Reaver_ came back over the com. ‘ _Shuttle Pyrrhus_ , according to the recent maintainence logs, your shuttle’s hyperdrive is currently removed for maintenance.’

His hand slammed uselessly onto the hyperdrive engager and the hyperdrive accelerator lever snapped off with a groan.

‘Very well, I will assume command of the _Reaver_ immediately. I have multiple injured prisoners aboard. Have the medical wing alerted and the Commander’s hangar prepared.’ He snapped, spinning them around and soaring towards the hangar. The cockpit was a silent as the grave.

‘You will be escorted to the cell block upon your arrival where you will remain until the healers have finished with your companions. Then, once I have left the ship, you will stage a revolt and escape.’ He ignored the looks on their faces as they ducked beneath the pale belly of the capital ship. The hangar doors at the rear were still closed, so he took a loop around again.

‘How exactly do you expect us to escape the cell block?’ Obi Wan demanded, his voice cold and unfriendly, so different from any other time he had spoken.

‘I can sabotage the power generators.’ Ani replied. They doubted him, he could feel it in the force even as he pointedly ignored their expressions. He shook his head, determined that their opinions didn’t matter. He was a Sith Lord, Heir to the Empire and Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy, he cared only for his own freedom. The hangar doors were open, finally. He reached out in the force, a strong suggestion of sleep forcing his rebel passengers under. He caught the flash of betrayal in Padmé’s eyes as she slumped in her seat behind him, until only Obi Wan Kenobi remained. He wondered briefly at the slight fear he sensed from the Jedi, but his attention was soon taken up landing the ship in the hangar.

He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, running his fingers over his familiar scar. He was seriously looking forward to a shower and it occurred to him to make sure all the rebels received a wash too. He hit the button to unlock the hatches and they depressurised with a hiss.

‘Hand me your saber, tell them you are a pilot.’ He ordered. The Jedi only paused briefly before complying, passing his weapon over. Both force users took a deep breath, Ani plunging himself into the dark side until his eyes glowed golden and he truly became Vader again.


	8. Power Outage

Padmé woke on a hard cot, knowing exactly where she was and dreading the moment she opened her eyes. She was practical enough to know that denial would change nothing however, so she cracked her eyelids, blinking rapidly in the bright light of the room. The platform she lay on was black, without a sheet or mattress.

She ached heavily and her head felt slightly fuzzy, as though she had been heavily sedated. Of course, Vader had used the force. That was the difference between the Jedi and the Sith, she decided; the Jedi would never violate a mind like that.

She swung her legs around, realising her feet were bare as they touched the cold floor. In fact, someone had washed her and changed her clothes, leaving her in a crisp shirt and imperial issue trousers. Part of her felt sick at the thought of some storm trooper undressing her, but at least they were just clones and she was very glad to be clean. Even her hair had been combed and tied up, which she was fairly certain was against imperial protocol. Usually prisoners were rescued with their hair shaved short. She smiled at the thought of the gruff clones braiding her hair, then wondered why she had been allowed to keep it. She reached behind her head, feeling the neat bun which was fastened with... pins? Pins that had a head that was exactly the shape of the screws that closed the panel by the door. She shoved it back into her hair, hoping that the security cameras hadn’t caught her looking. Her mind thundered with possibilities, but the only conclusion was that Vader had personally put them there.

She peered through the bars, now unsurprised to see Obi Wan restrained in a normal cell. The Jedi was awake and nodded to her through his own bars, he had no hairpins but she knew he wouldn’t need them to open his door. She vaguely remembered Vader saying he would sabotage the power generators.

The doors at the end of the corridor clanged open and a series of whimpers came from the cells around hers. She wondered what was running through the minds of the others from the ship. Heavy boots thudded up the grilled floor and a familiar, hooded figure stopped outside her cell, cape swirling around his feet. She jumped back from the door as it hissed open and the Dark Lord stepped through. She pressed herself against the far wall instinctively as his presence seemed to fill the small room. He raised one hand, making a twisting motion and the security camera swivelled away, jamming itself away from them.

Then he dropped his hood, revealing the blue eyes of Ani. He looked just like the dark version of a Jedi, with the open robe, layered tunic and high boots. Two sabers hung from his belt, his own and Obi Wan’s far more delicate one.

‘The medbay will be finished with the last of your people in an hour or so, they are taking Dod out of bacta now. I will depart when the ship drops out of hyperspace, the shuttle we came from has the route to Dantooine already plotted into the nav computer. All you need to do is clear the hangar and make the jump.’ The Sith didn’t meet her eyes as he spoke, instead staring at a point over her right shoulder. He fingered the saber at his belt, as if debating whether to just take it off and run her through to save himself the trouble of orchestrating their escape.

‘Thank you for doing this.’ She offered, making sure her gratitude was obvious. ‘You have done a lot to ensure our freedom.’ She placed a soft emphasis on the last word, knowing that he at least cared for that value, even if he didn’t particularly care for their lives.

‘I have been summoned back to Imperial Centre, no doubt to face punishment from the Emperor. I suggest you wait until I have left and the power cuts out before making your move, or I will be forced to assist in recapturing you.’ What went unsaid was that if Vader was forced to assist, they certainly would not be escaping.

‘If you weren’t a slave, would you come with us?’ She asked. His eyes widened, the blue so startlingly clear. Then yellow bled through and she wondered why they didn’t go green first.

‘That question is irrelevant.’ He snapped as his entire countenance changed. Padmé concealed her smile because Vader had almost completely confirmed her theory.

He strode from the room, briefly pausing by Obi Wan’s before storming from the cell block. She jumped as the camera swivelled back around with a creak and a whirr. She considered making a rude gesture at it, knowing that the empire would have to watch the footage after her escape but decided that would be juvenile. Instead, she lay back down on her cot, knowing she would need as much rest as possible before their escape.

..................................................................................................................................................................

She woke when the cell block was plunged into darkness, the mechanical locks latching into place. She looked around, unable to tell up from down as the gravity generator switched off and she couldn’t see her fingers in front of her face. She had a vague memory of someone telling her to hold herself down if the power failed so that the gravity generator didn’t injure her when the auxillary kicked in.

Emergency lighting hummed to life but even after she waited several seconds there was no gravity. She didn’t know whether that was a usual feature of star destroyers or something Vader had done to increase confusion, but she finally let herself float off the bed. She pushed off the wall, flying to the door and wrapping her hands around the bars. She pulled one of the pins out of her hair and quickly unscrewed the panel. The emergency mechanical locks were incredibly simple, just a latch that had to be lifted and the door could be shoved open.

Obi Wan was already in the corridor, releasing the prisoners. She quickly set to work on the cell next door where Sabé waited. As soon as her handmaiden had been freed, she passed one of her pins off and both women started work on the cells until not only their team but the three other captured rebels had been freed. Then, assuming they didn’t have long and hoping that the emergency generator didn’t include the alarms, they fled from the cell block.

Unfortunately, it seemed imperial protocol was for every door to shut in case of power failure, so escape took significantly longer than they had anticipated. The first group of storm troopers they encountered was quickly overwhelmed by sheer numbers and their weapons and armour plundered. They dealt with a larger group next, and once they had a reasonable number of troopers, nobody looked at them twice as they manually opened blast doors – why would they when everyone else was having to do the same.

They reached the hangar and found the transport waiting, strapped down for storage so it hadn’t drifted around. One of the rebels in stormtrooper armour set to releasing the straps whilst everyone else climbed aboard.

‘Trooper, halt!’ Someone shouted from behind them. Someone shot the officer and immediately chaos erupted. There must have been a whole troop just around the corner, or perhaps there were alarms in the hangars still because with a clatter of armoured feet there was a rain of blaster fire. Those remaining on the hangar floor dove for cover behind the ramp, crates, anything they could find. Padmé’s cover was perhaps not her most intelligent moment – the landing gear of the ship was significantly thinner than she was. She rolled sideways as someone provided covering fire and released one of the straps, then dove to join an Anomid who’d removed his stormtrooper helmet behind a supply crate.

He gestured furiously towards the ship, then signalled down from five, his vocoder having gone missing somewhere during their adventure (read ordeal). On five she leapt out, scuttling over to the ramp as he provided a barrage of covering fire. Then she returned the favour as he joined her, a second team effort had them both up the ramp and inside the ship. Dod was counting everyone on just inside the door, numbers interspersed with the pinging of his blaster as he popped off troopers.

‘That’s everyone!’ He bellowed up to the cockpit and whoever was the pilot gunned the engines as Padmé hit the button to raise the ramp. She rushed to the cockpit, Obi Wan was in the pilot’s seat and Padmé’s pilot was in the co-pilot seat.

‘There’s a course already plotted to Dantooine.’ She informed them, firing up the navicomputer.

‘We’ll have to redo it, the start location won’t be accurate.’ The co-pilot told her as they soared from the hangar.

She tapped the screen, where the readouts matched exactly. Incredibly, Vader had managed to predict the exact location of the ship when they made their escape. They were at the exact coordinates to make the jump. The pilot just goggled for a moment, then set their heading and hit the hyperspace activator. The stars spread from pinpricks to lines and Obi Wan eased the hyperdrive accelerator to top speed and the lines blended into a purple vortex.

‘We’re free.’ She said incredulously.

‘We need to warn the Jedi that Vader knows about Dantooine.’ The co pilot said sadly and she nodded. It had been almost impossible to find somewhere for the Jedi to hide as an order and abandoning Dantooine would be a major setback.

‘I doubt Vader knows the true importance of the base there, but it would be unwise to not be cautious.’ Obi Wan said heavily. Her sympathy was almost tinged with bitterness, at least the Jedi had been able to call the planet home for three years, that was longer than she had remained in one place since the collapse of the Republic five years ago. Her time on Yavin was bittersweet, cold and uncomfortable but relatively stable, safe until the day that Vader had somehow stumbled upon them. She wondered if he would have told her how he found them had she asked.

In the meantime, an idea was forming in her head, one that was as mental as it was brilliant. An idea that would swing the war irrevocably in their favour. She left the cockpit, finding Sabé and leading her into the engine room. It was loud on such an old ship, but the noise would mask their conversation from the Jedi who was almost guaranteed to stop them going.

‘You must tell anyone this, Sabé.’ Padmé urged as soon as the door slid shut behind them. The ex-handmaiden nodded and Padmé trusted her completely. They were more than best friends, shared experience and the isolation of their roles as handmaiden and queen respectively had forced a bond, even if they hadn’t been so alike to begin with. ‘I believe that Vader wants to join the Rebellion.’

‘No!’ Sabé gasped.

‘He’s a slave, Sabé. I think if we free him, even if he doesn’t join us, he would help us.’ She insisted, determined to convince her friend.

‘And how exactly do we free him?’ Sabé asked, sceptically.

‘I’m going to infiltrate the Imperial Palace.’ She announced, ‘but I need you to fly the ship in.’

For a moment, Sabé just gaped at her, gobsmacked. It was the most audacious, suicidal plan Padmé had ever come up with, which is why it would probably work. The Emperor was force sensitive, which is why every other assassination attempt had failed, but if a single non-force sensitive with no intention of harming the emperor were to break in, chances are he would never detect them, which made the whole operation no more dangerous than any other covert mission. Apart from the additional security.

‘You’re nuts.’ The handmaiden finally announced.

‘I know, but think of the reward, can you imagine if we pulled Vader away from the Empire? The military don’t respect the Emperor, even if they didn’t decide to just follow him, it would leave the Empire in shambles.’ Sabé considered, which Padmé considered a major victory. What she didn’t mention was that the real motivator behind this was the knowledge that Ani was a slave, that shadowed young man who had been so happy to help them even when he knew nothing more than that he was their prisoner. She couldn’t bear to leave him when he had been so good to them, she dreaded the day when she would face that black mask again and he would be forced to kill her.

‘Empire day, it’s in a couple of weeks. That would be the best day, the Emperor will be at the senate.’ Sabé said decisively and Padmé couldn’t believe her ears. ‘But it won’t be just you; I’m going in with you. I’ll speak to Ell­­é, she can pilot.’

Padmé could hardly believe her ears, but with Sabé’s assistance they quickly hashed out a rough plan. She had enough credits left in her personal savings to purchase a legitimate ship and Sabé was fairly certain she could acquire a pair of imperial identity papers for them both from the Alliance stockpile.

They continued planning right up until the engine noise changed, presumably as they dropped out of hyperspace. Only then did they reemerge and join the others. They landed shortly after, the ramp lowering into the dark, damp cave of the Dantooine base. She’d never been here before, in fact, only the Jedi had been to this base which was partially why it had remained secure for so long. They were in a sinkhole, the landing gear of the ship submerged in shallow, murky water that rapidly began to clear. By the time she reached the bottom of the ramp, a cluster of young Jedi had dashed from beneath the overhang and started dragging a woven mat of vines over the ship. Suddenly she noticed several other mounds throughout the sinkhole, at initial inspection just vine covered boulders, but a flash of red beneath one, a slightly too regular shape repeated throughout the cavern revealed them to be Jedi fighters.

They all emerged and were led by a very young Togruta under the overhang and into a concealed cave. It was damp and they still waded through that shin high water. The splashing echoed off the walls, and Obi Wan called for everyone to join hands. It was so dark that it took her a minute to find the person infront, then a small hand, perhaps one of the Jedi took her other hand and linked it to someone behind her. Then they shuffled forwards in a slow procession, feeling the floor infront of them with their feet and water sloshing around. She was tugged to the left and the ground rose beneath her and they left the water, sand crunching beneath her feet. Then suddenly it was light enough to see and they emerged into a dusky cavern. The ground was gravelly, moss growing on the walls and light filtered through a crack in the ceiling. The young Jedi still accompanied them, turning them sharply, almost back the way they had come and through a narrow slit in the rock. They had to squeeze through, she doubted any armoured storm trooper would fit through the space, and as she emerged onto the other side, the space behind would have made it easy for a Jedi to swing a lightsaber and defend the entire space behind.

This room was also dark and they joined hands again as they were led down a steep decline, then suddenly they passed through a set of blast doors and they were in a dimly lit underground chamber. It looked like a storeroom, or perhaps a workshop, the next room was more habitable, this one looking like a training room. They were met here by the remaining members of the Jedi council; Yoda, Mace Windu, Qui Gon Jinn, Shaak Tii and Adi Gallia.

‘Knight Kenobi, Senator Amidala, we believed you were dead.’ The Togruta master says, sounding almost completely impassive.

‘We sustained damage to the Hyperdrive and crash landed on Dathomir.’ Padmé was certain that Obi Wan would report to the council fully. She wanted nothing more than a wash (however cold) and a bed. Then, she had an ally to repay.


	9. Imperial Centre

Padmé, Sabé and Ellé snuck out that night after dinner. The Jedi youngling didn’t question them when they said they wanted to use the Dejarik board on the ship, happily leading them through the dark caverns to the sinkhole. To keep up their ruse, they even began a game and eventually the youngling left to join the other Jedi. As soon as they were alone, the three women left the game and dragged the canopy off the ship. It was tricky because the Jedi must have used the force and the tangled vines kept snagging on protruding sensors. Then, once the canopy was crumpled on the wet floor, they realised it was far too heavy to lift.

It was with a sense of urgency they scrambled aboard and fired up the engines. This was the noisy part, and at any moment someone could arrive and find out what was happening. Padmé programmed the Hyperspace jump to Ord Mantel as the other two launched them up into the atmosphere. The ship shuddered as they pushed it to maximum speed, clouds lashing past them. The moment they cleared the atmosphere, Sabé hit the hyperdrive activator and they made the jump.

All three women sat for a moment, chests heaving and staring at the streams of hyperspace.

‘Do you think we were followed?’ Ellé asked finally and Padmé shrugged.

‘They certainly know we’re gone. I doubt they would have managed to get anything uncovered fast enough to chase us.’ Sabé decided.

‘This ship is slow. They’ll overtake us if they follow the trajectory.’ Ellé pointed out and both women nodded.

‘Then we hope.’ Padmé decided.

They did finish the game of Dejarik, and several others followed it, then Padmé and Sabé applied meticulous makeup. The handmaidens were masters with the cosmetics, highlighting and shadowing Padmé’s face to make her chin pointier, her cheekbones higher and her brows thick and heavy. Sabé received similar treatment, although with attention paid to making her chin smaller, almost recessive.

Then the alarm beeped that they were about to exit hyperspace and Ellé left to bring the down.

‘You look terrible.’ Sabé laughed and Padmé glanced in the mirror. She did, her eyes looking tiny and her face was dwarfed by the witchlike chin and cheekbones.

‘So do you.’ Padmé shot back and both of them laughed nervously. The ship bumped as they landed and Ellé returned a moment later.

‘We should get going. Return to the Alliance, Ellé, you may tell them where we have gone.’ Padmé ordered.

‘I think you need backup.’ The woman retorted, already pulling a cloak around her shoulders.

‘No, Ellé. We need the Alliance aware of where we have gone, so they understand what’s happened if we return. You need to be the one to tell them.’ Padmé insisted, and the two women stared at one another challengingly before the handmaiden finally acquiesced, passing the cloak instead to Padmé.

‘Very well, but you have to return, with or without Vader.’

‘We’ll do our best.’ Sabé promised, holstering her blaster and a long, wicked knife.

Their first shop was the kind of place that made that knife more than necessary, a shop for the most depraved citizens of the galaxy – slavers. The place was mostly full of Twi’lek, but there were plenty of other species to suit ‘exotic tastes’, but the section they were more interested in lay towards the back. Sabé stood menacingly with her blaster and knife whilst Padmé rifled through clothes and flase jewellery.

The price was exorbitant, but Padmé just giggled as though she were the wife of a rich imperial and paid anyway. Those kinds of shops were discrete so long as one didn’t antagonise the owner.

Their next stop was far more pleasant, although on a planet like Ord Mantel that meant very little. They weren’t looking for anything remarkable – if all went to plan they would be leaving on Vader’s personal ship. If it didn’t, they would be dead. The mediocre request drew no attention, and the shop owner delegated a slave to show them their options. They settled on a comfortable, family transport that was slow, unarmed and with only basic deflector shields. This time they did barter, managing to knock a substantial amount off the price, which was good because it still drained Padmé’s account down to almost the last credit.

They took off straight from the dealer, but the nav computer was so slow they had to remain in orbit for almost an hour after they cleared the atmosphere whilst it painstakingly plotted a route to Coruscant. Both women used the opportunity to clean off their makeup and try on their new disguises.

..................................................................................................................................................................

It took a day to reach Coruscant and they arrived with less than a day before the festivities started. This time, they made each other up with exotic, strong features and dark, sultry eyes. Padmé struggled to not cover herself as she looked in the mirror, the crimson dancers outfit falling about her legs in a way that hid absolutely nothing. The beaded top bared her midriff and pushed her breasts up uncomfortably, and she couldn’t find anywhere to hide a blaster. Sabé seemed to be having the same problem, but after a moment’s consideration she realised a blaster would do no good if they were discovered.

They covered themselves with heavy robes and left the ship unlocked with the ownership forms on the table. The owner of the landing pad would probably take the ship and there was no harm in that. They didn’t have enough time to sell it.

A taxi took them to the palace and dropped them off at the lower level entrance. A shipment of food had just arrived, and the troopers thoroughly inspected each box and bag as it was carried by uniformed servants into the palace. Padmé and Sabé approached with false confidence until a trooper called for them to halt.

They did.

‘What is your business here?’ The trooper sounded alert, focused, which considering that today was such an important day in the Empire and he was protecting the Emperor himself was only to be expected.

‘We’re here to dance for His Majesty after the celebrations.’ Sabé curtsied gracefully, her robe parting to reveal a flash of her red costume.

‘The Emperor has not made us aware of additional dancers.’ The trooper replied after consulting a datapad. His partner raised his blaster at them.

‘We were sent as a gift by Lord Vader, Sir.’ Padmé interrupted hastily. ‘We are part of Master Ani’s group.’ The two troopers shared a nervous glance, and she could practically see them weighing up the risk of letting in two unexpected dancers over the more personal risk of disturbing Darth Vader. Fortunately, they seemed to decide not to check their claims, and they were waved through. Neither woman relaxed as they were searched thoroughly by the next set of troopers and their cloaks taken from them. Only Sabé’s bag was returned after a quick debate, the emergency makeup she carried being deemed essential to their job.

They were met by another trooper, who informed them bluntly that they were to be escorted to His Majesty’s chambers. They hurried after him through what must have been a network of servant’s corridors, still decorated with the imperial emblem but lacking the grandeur she expected. The passed what must have been the ballroom, judging by the rumble of voices, and the kitchen. Hundreds of harried looking servants rushed past them in all directions. The feast was being taken out, so the Emperor would be leaving his rooms soon. They had timed it perfectly to allow for the most time to search.

The trooper handed them over to the red guard, who let them in after just a brief explanation. Then they were in, alone in the Emperor’s chambers, having supposedly been vetted by Vader himself.

‘Where do we start?’ Sabé murmured, gazing over the opulent bed.

‘I think here. He wouldn’t keep it somewhere Vader could get to.’ Padmé decided, hurrying over and checking the bedside table.

She found nothing except a couple of Sith holocrons and a datapad. Sabé checked the wardrobe, the bookcase, Padmé hunted beneath the bed, the bases of all the statues. She could see the sun beginning to set outside the window. They still had a couple of hours, but they needed to hurry. With every spot in the bedroom searched, the moved onto the bathroom, searching the massive, opulent bath and hot room.

‘A trophy room. He must have somewhere like that.’ Sabé decided, hands on her bejewelled hips as she surveyed the room.

‘It might be hidden somewhere.’ Padmé gnawed on her lip, the lipstick sticky beneath her teeth. In a move both reckless and genius, Sabé leaned through the door and spoke to one of the guards.

‘Could you please assist us, Sir; we want to know where His Majesty relaxes.’ The guard nodded and stepped through the doorway. As soon as it shut behind him, Sabé swept around and stood at his back. ‘You have a blaster to your back. Show us where he keeps his trophies.’ She snarled and the guard paused before nodding.

Padmé’s blood pounded in her ears as the guard slotted a strange talisman that they had assumed was a curio into a grove in the wall. The nearby portrait swung open to reveal the space behind. Sabé prodded her guard through with the ‘blaster’ and Padmé followed.

The room was packed with lightsabers, handing with inches between them from every side, each unique and telling a story. Shelves carried holocron after holocron and a couple more strange, morbid artifacts. In pride of place on the wall were two objects – a lightsaber that looked completely unlike any of the Jedi ones, and a small white control.

‘That’s it.’ Padmé realised, snatching the small device from the wall. Sabé smashed the guard over the head with a long lightsaber hilt and he staggered, his helmet dented from the impact. The handmaiden yanked the helmet off and replicated the blow to the bare head. The guard crumpled, unconscious. She slipped the lipstick tube that had been the ‘blaster’ back into her bag.

‘We don’t have long, let’s get out of here.’

They dashed from the trophy room, yanking the talisman from its spot and chucking it roughly back into place. The doors to the chamber flew open with a crash, troopers streaming in from all direction. Both women threw their hands up and someone grabbed Padmé from behind. She was forced to her knees and a pair of binders snapped painfully tight around her wrists. She cried out in pain as she was yanked back to her feet by her bound hands, her shoulders twisting backwards in the sudden movement.

The transmitter dug painfully into her breast as they were marched from the room, reminding her of her failure. The emperor would realise what they had taken as soon as they were taken before him, the transmitter would never be so easy to reach again, he would hide it somewhere where nobody could get to it and Vader would be his loyal slave forever.

She was yanked to a stop in a dark room, decorated in crimson with large busts against the walls. It seemed like a waiting room of some description, unfurnished yet grand. She shared a grimace with Sabé as she the lead trooper had a rushed discussion with a grey uniformed officer. The door behind him was ajar, and she realised she could hear the Emperor addressing the assembled guests in the hall.

She heard Vader’s name repeated several times, then the officer hurried off. They stood for what felt like forever, then the officer returned. The troopers snapped to attention, but the emperor was speaking uninterrupted.

A familiar figure appeared through the door, one that should have incited nightmares but instead brought a flooding sense of relief. Vader’s massive, armoured form strode up the hall, taking in the two bound prisoners. Padmé’s shoulders trembled; that breathing was terrifying, perhaps that was the purpose of it.

He paused several meters away and she wished he didn’t wear the mask so that she could read his expression.

‘It was foolish to come here.’ He finally stated, no inflection leaking through that mechanical voice.

‘We’ll tell you everything, Mi’lord.’ She stuttered, doing her best to appear terrified. ‘Please, just send the soldiers away.’

He considered her for a moment, his helmeted head tilted to one side, before he lifted a hand. The troopers snapped to attention and marched from the room in neat file, leaving them alone with Vader. The doors shut at both ends of the room with a sharp clack and Padmé sagged in relief.

‘Ani, I have something for you.’ She said excitedly, victory suddenly coursing through her. She had delivered his transmitter to them, hopefully scoring a massively powerful ally for the Alliance.

‘It was foolish to come here, Padmé’ The Sith repeated, shaking his head.

‘We got your transmitter.’ She revealed, and the Sith froze, his hands falling from his belt.

‘How... why?’ He stuttered and she struggled for a moment against her binders. A wave of his hand later and they clattered to the floor. Sabé rubbed her wrists with a wince, whilst Padmé pulled the small remote from her bra. There was a button on it, clearly labelled as “activate”, she pushed the smaller one beneath it to “deactivate.”

Nothing dramatic happened, just the light behind the buttons blinking out. It felt awfully anticlimactic, but she tossed the small instrument to Vader anyway and he caught it. It crumpled in his fist with a pop and he shoved the remains into one of the pockets on his belt.

‘I will assist you on one condition; that you take me to your leaders to discuss an Alliance.’ Vader decided and Padmé grinned, already nodding. He unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and strode after the troopers.

The corridors they passed through were almost deserted, everyone in the ball room with the Emperor. If any of the guards thought something was strange about Vader striding through with two dancers trailing him, they didn’t comment. Padmé, despite being accustomed to finery couldn’t help but gape at the ominous opulence of the decorations. There was furniture made out of real wood, paintings by famous artists, heavy drapes and banners and precious metals. High ceilings disappeared into the gloom and huge windows offered panoramic views of the Coruscant skyline.

They entered a lift, which rocketed upwards. The movement was imperceptible if it weren’t for the bars of red light flashing past. They stopped as suddenly as they had started, the doors hissing open to an entirely different aesthetic. The corridor was bare except for the imperial banners that hung from the wall, grey walls flat and plain in the stark lighting. They were led down the corridor to an undisguised blast door and through into an office.

The office was startlingly bare, an imposing desk looking out over the Coruscant skyline. There was a stack of datapads, and Vader shoved several aside, searching for something. A moment later, he shoved a stack of pads into Sabé’s hands, then he went into a different room, returning with a small, tattered box which he passed to Padmé. He beckoned to the two rebels, who hastily followed him. The corridor this time was much smaller, and the blast doors they passed through several meters thick. They emerged into a small hangar, occupied by a sleek black speeder and a large imperial shuttle. They made for the shuttle, a droid technician rolling up to give a report on the status of the ship. Vader dismissed it with a curt slash of his hand, and they climbed up the ramp.

The interior was as stark as the exterior with no personal effects. A protocol droid was deactivated and plugged in to the corner, a thick layer of dust indicating that it hadn’t been turned on in a very long time. The women followed him into the cockpit, then Padmé realised with some surprise that the ship had been modified to only have one pilot. She hadn’t thought it was possible for Imperial ships to have any deviation, then again, it was Vader’s ship; if anyone could get a modified shuttle, it was the Supreme Commander.

‘Sit.’ Vader ordered. The two took a seat on the floor against the bulkhead. ‘Everything will be very different tomorrow.’


	10. Revolution

He was free.

It was a feeling so exhilarating yet terrifying. He didn’t know whether he wanted to fly away and never face the galaxy again, or annihilate his former master and everything he cared for. The dark side surged, eager to exact revenge but he held it in check. He owed Padmé everything, his life, his freedom and only by aiding her friends could he ever hope to pay her back. He glanced sideways at the datapads Sabé hugged. He had a plan, but he needed to make contact with the Executor first.

He sent a quick message to Piett to have everyone aboard the Executor assemble in the main hanger – the only room large enough for the entire complement of soldiers and pilots. He would interrupt the Empire Day celebrations, but that was minor.

He landed with practiced motions, spinning the ship at the last moment so that the ramp faced towards the door. He took a moment to breathe and calm nerves that he hadn’t felt since he marched on the Jedi temple.

‘You can come if you want.’ He told the two women, both of whom jumped to their feet. He eyed the provocative dancer’s costumes they both wore with a sneer and directed them to the wardrobe in his shuttle. Whilst they fetched cloaks, he pried off his helmet and armour. He wanted to go before the troops as he was, not as the slave of the Emperor. The women emerged again, each wearing one of his cloaks, Padmé carrying another for him.

Piett met him at the ramp, hiding his surprise well as the two women followed him off.

‘Captain, is everything in order?’ He demanded, already striding in the direction of the main hangar. There was no convenient platform for addressing the sea of white and grey in front of him, so he jumped onto one of the platforms used for pilots to reach a tie and hit the button to ascend. The whirr of the machinery seemed loud in the silence. It was unnatural to see that many troops so silent. He wondered if they would sense the gravity of the moment.

He paused, drawing his hatred around him, then throwing it out like a thousand tiny feelers, brushing the minds of every man in the room. They were confused, no gathering like this had been called before.

‘I come before you today to inform you that the Emperor had betrayed the galaxy.’ He finally announced. The force enhanced his voice, carrying it clearly through the massive room so that everyone heard it. He felt the ripple of surprise, the caution. The general consensus seemed to be that he was testing them somehow. ‘Until recently, the Emperor held my silence with this, but no longer. I am free now to speak the truth, to expose his treachery.’ He held up the device, which until recently his entire existence had relied upon. ‘Emperor Palpatine orchestrated the Clone Wars, he was behind both sides, the Jedi did not betray the Republic, they tried to arrest him when this was discovered. He had me destroy them.’ Mutters swept through the hangar, the usually stoic troops confused by his words. He carefully noted the officers whose glee shone in the force, they would be the ones to report to Sidious.

‘I have several documents which will be broadcast to the galaxy in place of the Emperor’s address this evening, and tomorrow morning you will speak to your families. Will you tell them that you supported the Emperor that manipulated the galaxy for his own power, or will you tell them that you have fought for freedom? Will you tell them that you helped to hide his tyranny, or that you served the galaxy by helping to eliminate his corruption?’

There was silence.

‘I assure you that the galaxy will change after tonight and that for those who support freedom, there will always be a place. We are still a long way from peace, the Emperor had allowed piracy and slavery to flourish, and the military will conduct the cleanup that has been left too long.’

This declaration seemed to garner more support, and he turned to Piett. The officer nodded to a technician that stood separate from the others, and a discordant beeping filled the air as a message arrived on everyone’s personal coms at once. As one, every man lifted his wrist, and blue holograms flickered to life throughout the room. It’s footage of the moment the Jedi stepped in to arrest Palpatine, something the Emperor had ensured was deleted from the security holos, but had never thought to remove from the visual chips in his apprentice’s helmet.

It rolled straight from that onto a recording of a message from Sidious to Tyranus, which claimed him as his apprentice and proved that Dooku was working for the Chancellor at the time. What followed were classified files, combat video footage, blatant truth of the atrocities committed in the name of the Emperor.

Vader waited patiently; he hadn’t had much time to think about which pieces of footage to use but the engineer had done an excellent job, particularly given that he had only moments to do it. He sent feelers out in the force, sensing the varieties of emotions, pinpointing those whose opinions had changed, and the few who truly didn’t care and were plotting to use this as a change to increase their standing in the Empire. As the footage drew to a close, he subtly wrapped the force around those individuals.

This time, when he asked whether the men would follow him, the answer was a resounding yes.

‘I warn you now, that I will not tolerate those who seek to enslave others for their own gain.’ He finished darkly, and he gave a sharp tug in the force, tightening those tendrils he had planted earlier. With grunts of pain, about a hundred people clutched at their chests as their hearts stopped beating, choking for air. Those around them remained silent and unmoving, allowing the others to fall to the floor. Silence cloaked the room.

‘We have an opportunity now to end the Emperor and his tyranny forever, before he realises his ill deeds have been discovered. Your orders will come through the usual channels.’ The parade dissolved as people returned to their usual duties, a rumble of voices filling the ship. He found the two rebel women waiting for him at ground level.

‘I need to speak with your leaders now.’ He demanded and Padmé nodded hurriedly. He led them to the nearest communications suite and she nervously entered the necessary codes. They had to wait for a very long time for the call to connect, and Vader began to doubt it would be accepted. The frequency she was using was very old, so old he hadn’t even had his troops scanning it and the connection was fuzzy when it was finally made.

‘Padmé.’ The voice came from outside the range of the holo, none of the rebel leaders willing to reveal their identity.

‘I have an ally here that would like to discuss terms.’ She didn’t bother with greetings, Vader suspected in an attempt to avoid him being able to identify any of the leaders.

‘The Jedi said as much. Was your _unsanctioned_ mission a success?’ It was impressive that the speaker managed to sound disapproving despite the vocabulator they spoke through.

‘It was.’ She replied, gesturing for Vader to step forwards. He had dropped his hood, allowing them to see his face.

‘Darth Vader.’ The rebel leader said, once again managing to sound cold.

‘Good evening. As Padmé has said, I wish to discuss terms with you.’ He forced himself to remain tall, despite knowing that the lengthly pause was probably a furious debate off camera.

‘How do we know we can trust you?’ Came the answer.

‘The Emperor’s address is a token of my willingness to work together, and I can sweeten the deal with the guarantee that he will be dead by morning.’ For a moment there was silence.

‘What do you want from us?’ A woman had finally stepped into the field of view. She was tall, dressed in white with short hair. He vaguely remembered her as Mon Mothma, a senator that had initially rallied against the chancellor, and had then fled when the Emperor began executing political opponents.

‘I want you to step in to restore Democracy.’ There was a shocked silence from the other end. ‘However, the military must remain intact. I intend to purge the galaxy of corruption and slavery.’

‘Any yourself; will you answer to the law?’ Mon Mothma demanded.

‘I will claim protection under the Slavery Act. Padmé can stand as my witness, as can the clinic when my deactivated chip is removed.’ Shocked silence met his words.

‘Very well. I suggest a diplomatic envoy meets on Dantooine.’

‘To the contrary; we must seize power immediately or we risk a moff taking power. I guarantee you safe passage to Imperial Centre, where we will address the Senate.’ He argued. These rebels were worryingly unaware of the state of Imperial government, but with his assistance he was fairly certain they would be able to achieve democracy, and freedom.

There was more muttering off screen, then finally Mon stepped back into view.

‘We agree, a delegation from the Alliance will meet you on Coruscant by morning.’

The communication shut off with a snap, and the room was suddenly very dark. He turned to the technician.

‘Override the Emperor’s speech.’ The technician nodded and pressed a button. The Executor’s lights flickered as enough power was drawn to beam his footage to the galaxy. The technician brought up the feed and Vader regarded the image.

‘Have the bridge power up all engines, I want all power diverted to the transmission.’ The engineer nodded, and the lights dimmed fully, even as the engines rumbled through the ship in a start up sequence. The image refined, becoming clearer.

‘Excellent.’ He turned about and marched up to the bridge. Piett was waiting for him, engineers shouting reports from their pits.

‘Bring us into position, Admiral.’ He ordered. Piett glanced around, puzzled. The Admiral was not on the bridge, perhaps he didn’t realise he had been among those killed in the hangar. He waited for a moment more to see if he realised, then addressed him again.

‘Admiral Piett? Bring us into position above the palace.’ This was perhaps the best part of his plan; Imperial centre was guarded by a fleet of destroyers, all of whom were not a match for the Executor. There was no deflector shield, not when there was so much air traffic. In creating a ship so massive, so powerful, the Emperor had ensured that if it ever turned against him, there was nothing that could stop it. So as the transmission came to an end, as Vader finished beaming the truth to every corner of the galaxy, all that power was diverted from transmitting, to the weapons array. The volley of green decimated the Imperial palace, there was nothing that could be done, no stopping it. That was why Vader appreciated the destroyer, even over the technological terror the Emperor had begun to build. He could be exactly as destructive as he needed to be. His ship could blast a planetary surface to slag within hours, or he could destroy a single building. So, when the citizens of Imperial Centre dared to peer from behind their arms, only the palace had been destroyed, allowing light to filter through to the senate building for the first time since the formation of the Empire.

The response was rapid, perhaps they didn’t realise just which ship had fired the shots, because three destroyers streamed from the other side of the planet. He gave the order for the weapons to be recharged, for power to be diverted to the forward deflector shields when, like spectres the six members of Death Squadron closed ranks at their wings. Six separate holograms popped up in the command station, each pledging allegiance to freedom, the last, the _Devastator_ adding that they were ready to fire on command.

They needn’t have bothered; the three destroyers caught sight of Death Squadron and fled like frightened dogs.

‘Is this it?’ Padmé asked uncertainly, staring out the viewport. She wondered briefly how many rebel ships had borne the brunt of that firepower. How many times a ship had been blown to spaceport through those windows.

‘I think it is.’ Sabé whispered to her quietly.


	11. Chancellor of the Republic

It had all happened so quickly, her mind could barely comprehend what was happening as Sabé dressed her in a senatorial gown from her wardrobe. She had no idea how Vader had found it, or rather, one of his officers had found it. He was busy, which was completely understandable because he was orchestrating the transfer of an empire to... she wasn’t entirely sure what he envisioned for the future but it seemed an awful lot like a democracy.

He had been completely different to the Ani she had come to know, and not like the Vader any of the rebels knew either. He seemed to spent the entire night in talks with various moffs and the Alliance, the military was to convene in a couple of days, they would address the senate this morning. Then the Jedi would be formally pardoned in the afternoon.

She surveyed herself in the mirror, the large gold headdress feeling heavy on her head after so long dressed in more practical clothes. She frowned, a deep sense of wrongness settling in her at the image. The gown was beautiful and she looked stunning in it, hardship and time chasing away the childhood tubbiness. It felt fake though, as though she were an apparition from the past. She tugged the headdress off and almost tore the fine fabric of the overgown as she pulled it off.

She looked in the mirror again, the silver-blue fabric of the undergown gleamed dully, the embroidery simple but stunning. She swept her dark hair up again, a simple updo and fastened it with a couple of gold pins. She looked much better, more real, grounded. This was no longer a galaxy of airy, lofty figures, of angels and legends. This was a galaxy that knew war, poverty and slavery. She was for more suited to that galaxy in this underdress.

She met Vader at the door to the rooms she had been given overnight. He could have passed as a Jedi with long robes and layered tunics, a lightsaber hanging at his belt. Only his eyes betrayed him with their yellow glow. He nodded when he saw her.

‘Did you sleep well?’ He asked. It was an innocuous question, so human that she found herself laughing.

‘I did thank you. Did you?’ Her manners were not forgotten.

‘I meditated for most of the night, to prepare for meeting the Jedi.’

‘Does it need that much preparation?’ She asked lightly.

‘Yes.’ He flashed her a sheepish grin, reminding her of the Ani she had fixed the hyperdrive with. ‘I’m nervous.’

‘Nervous? Why?’ She asked incredulously. He was leader of the greatest military force, probably the most powerful force user in the galaxy, why would he be afraid of a couple of misplaced Jedi.

‘I wanted to be a Jedi when I was younger.’ He answered, sounding almost shy. Her mouth popped open; he was so far from a Jedi, their worst enemy. She shut her mouth as she realised why he was nervous.

‘You don’t want them to disapprove of you?’ She questioned and he snorted.

‘They will, they’ll hate me as much as a Jedi is allowed to. I wish it could be otherwise.’

‘Perhaps not, Obi Wan didn’t hate you.’ She pointed out and he nodded, acknowledging her point. They arrived at his shuttle and he led her aboard. She braced her hands against the back of the pilot’s seat, trusting his piloting ability enough to not risk dirtying her dress on the floor. He fired up the ship, lifting them smoothly off the hangar deck and soaring from the ship. He really was an incredible pilot, his fingers flew over the controls in a blur and she almost wished she had seen him pilot a fighter.

They soared down to the planet below and she took a moment to marvel at the hole in the city that was the imperial palace. Suddenly she was awfully grateful the Empire had wanted intelligence from the Rebel bases, nothing could stand up to that kind of bombardment. They would have been levelled before they could even sound the alarm. Already, worker droids were clearing the dirt, and debris, restoring the surrounding city to its former glory. She realised they hadn’t destroyed the palace right to its foundations, only down to the lower levels of the Jedi temple it had been built upon. Whether that was intentional or not, she didn’t know.

They landed on one of the many senate landing platforms and were met by a squad of guards who reported that the Alliance shuttle had entered the atmosphere. A couple of minutes later they appeared in a fast, unarmed shuttle, probably with assumption that escape would be easier than fighting if all went wrong. They were escorted by three Jedi Eta fighters and a handful of X wings and in a display of their pilot’s incredible prowess, all ships landed on the already full landing pad. It was perhaps the strangest combination of ships she had ever seen; the brightly coloured Jedi fighters and the battered X wings accompanying the sleek lined transport (soot marks obviously having been hastily cleaned off), crammed in next to the stark grey Imperial shuttle. Vader and Padmé stood alone on the platform as they were buffeted by the wind, the troopers retreating to an unthreatening distance near the door.

The fighter pilots climbed out first, Obi Wan, Qui Gon and Shaak Ti from the Jedi fighters, then the ramp on the transport hissed open, revealing the rest of the Alliance party. Mon had come, as well as Bail and Dodonna, then the Jedi Master Yoda shuffled down behind them.

It was a single moment, but one of the greatest in history as Darth Vader stepped forwards and shook hands with Mon Mothma. Cameras clicked and rattled the media hovered outside the exclusion zone and she imagined there were very few sentients in the galaxy not watching this momentous exchange.

Padmé stepped forwards to complete introductions and Vader shook hands with each Alliance commander respectfully, offering no words in the public. Then they moved on to the Jedi and there was a moment of awkwardness as neither side seemed to want to shake the other’s hand, then quickly, before the media could notice the hesitation, Vader stuck his hand out to Obi Wan.

‘Hmmn, expect me to reach that do you?’ Yoda commented before the Sith could offer his hand to the Jedi Grand Master. Vader smiled faintly and offered small bow instead. He led them quickly inside and out of the media attention, where they could talk more meaningfully. The Jedi fell to the back, knowing that this was the time for politics, but she could hear them talking quietly. From Vader’s continued glances, she was certain he could also.

The Emperor’s office had been hastily cleaned and emptied and the single desk replaced by one farm more conducive to large gatherings. It was a bland, Imperial affair which was at odds with the lavish surroundings the Emperor had favoured. Vader took a seat and the Rebellion arrayed themselves opposite him. Padmé paused for a moment, then decided to sit in the closer of the two chairs either side of him. It was a statement of support, one that did not go unnoticed by either side but she pitied Vader, a young military man facing off against three experienced politicians.

Perhaps the Alliance had come prepared for debate, but Vader was having none of it. He opened proceedings by briefly welcoming them and introducing the trembling Imperial aide who was keeping the minutes. Then he promptly declared that the Empire would return to a democracy and informed the Alliance that they must present their temporary Chancellor within the hour. He laid out conditions – that the military must remain untouched, immune from all crimes and that he would personally see to removing the corruption in both the military and the senate. He agreed with no argument when Mon demanded that everyone face a fair trial before facing corruption charges, which managed to surprise everyone present despite the already shocking proceedings. He then insisted that the reformed Jedi take an active role in continuing to keep the senate free of corruption. Once again, stunned silence met his words, they had expected to have to argue the reformation of the Jedi, the Sith being their notorious enemies.

He ended the meeting as quickly as it had begun, allowing the Alliance leaders to discuss their options whilst he went to deal with assembling the senate.

Immediately, frenzied conversation burst out, trying to discern whether they could trust Vader, whether he was being honest, what they should say to the senate. They didn’t need to discuss who would receive the position of Chancellor, Mon had been the leader of the Rebellion for long enough that they didn’t need to debate that.

‘Do you have any opinions to add, Master Jedi?’ Bail asked, turning to the four Jedi that were gathered in one corner of the room.

‘Difficult it is to tell, when shrouded in the dark side he is.’ Yoda admitted, ‘but not certain the Emperor is dead, is he.’

A wave of consternation swept through the room, Padmé shut her eyes in dismay. If Master Yoda had thought to mention it then the Jedi probably agreed that the Emperor was still alive.

‘Either way, the Empire is ripe for the taking at the moment, he will be much easier to defeat if we control the galaxy.’ Qui Gon added, a look passing between the Jedi.

‘I doesn’t hurt to have Vader’s star destroyer on our side either.’ Dodonna pointed out. An aide knocked on the doors and slipped through when Padmé softly called for him to enter. He looked relieved, as though he had expected to find them devouring the furniture – if the Imperial propaganda was to be believed they might have been.

‘Lord Vader is ready for you.’ He announced, and they all stood and followed him to the central pod.

It was surreal to be on this platform, she decided as the rose up through the floor. She had never had any ambitions to become Chancellor and so had never thought to imagine what it would be like. She felt self conscious, knowing that every eye in the massive room was on her, and from every angle at once. She hoped her hair was neat from behind, and had to consciously suppress the urge to check. She snuck a peek at Mon Mothma who appeared completely relaxed and Vader who looked like he did this every day. Then again, Vader had shared the central podium with Palpatine on occasion, although usually his mask hid his expressions.

The rumble of chatter throughout the room quieted as they reached height and Mas Amedda called for silence.

‘Citizens of the Galaxy. I come before you today after exposing the secrets kept by the Emperor, secrets that proved him to be a traitor to the Galaxy. As such, the emergency powers that were granted him have been rescinded, returning the control of the galaxy to a Chancellor. Of all of us, only a select few were not taken in by Palpatine’s lies, and as such, I have granted Mon Mothma the position until order has been reinstated and elections can be held.’ Mutters swept through the senate and Padmé realised Vader had his eyes shut. His hands were spread as though braced on the pod, but his fingers did not touch. She was almost willing to bet her life that he was using the force throughout the room.

‘However, this Galaxy has long been due a cleanup, so with the assistance of the falsely accused Jedi, I will personally be conducting a review of the senate and the military, and any member who uses their position to further themselves as opposed to their constituency will be dealt with by the courts.’ Vader’s warning rang through the suddenly silent senate, and she stepped back with a small bow to let Mon address the galaxy for the first time. Padmé didn’t listen to Mon’s speech, instead focusing on Vader. He had his eyes closed again and was whispering into a com, she caught planets being listed off and realised he was ordering arrests. The courts would be busy for months.

‘How many?’ Mon asked as soon as they descend back into the privacy of the antechamber below. The new Chancellor hadn’t missed his actions either.

‘Just under two hundred. Troopers managed apprehend them before they boarded transports.’ He reported smartly, every bit a military commander.

‘Are there others planning to flee?’ Dodonna demanded and Vader nodded.

‘I’ll have the planetary defence search every ship to depart the atmosphere. Any departing senators will be turned back.’

Padmé wondered how many corrupt officials would be spending the night as so many rebels had spent nights before. The galaxy was terrified of Vader and suddenly he had turned his attention from the rebels, to those that had previously been safe. Anyone who had ever even slightly abused their position would be quaking in their boots.


	12. Jedi

He had chosen the open space of the senate gardens for this meeting, mostly because he figured it would be one of the places the shroud of the dark side had touched the least. The Emperor had hated it here, perhaps because the living force thrived in every nook and cranny, light and pure despite the Emperor’s power. He had never before appreciated it here, in fact, this was his first visit. It really was a marvel that the Imperial gardeners had managed to coax a Molo shrub into growing next to a Rrwii root… and was that a Blackvine growing up the Japor tree?

‘An admirer of trees, I did not think you would be, Darth Vader.’ He had felt the Jedi approaching, bright presences shining above the already glowing flora.

‘I am not, Master Yoda, but even I know that Blackvine and Japor come from two vastly different planets.’ He replied.

‘Hmn, a marvel it is how two plants so different each other help. Too wet for Japor it is, so planted Blackvine the gardeners did. All the water in the area it will take.’ The Jedi master stood beside him with barely a hands breadth between them, leaning on a knobbly cane. He was ancient, but Vader was not fooled, he knew that age did not affect power, his own master had been an example of that. He reached for that severed bond, marvelling at the novelty of it. It had become almost a habit whenever he thought of his master recently, and he almost thought to viciously quash it, then he realised that he was free to do whatever he wanted now. So he kept reaching for the bond, running mental fingers through the tattered strands.

He snapped his mind back to the situation at hand, his distraction was dangerous. Then again, he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours in days. He couldn’t afford to yet though, the galaxy was still far from stable and he needed to ensure the power vacuum was filled before some Moff took it upon themselves to fill it.

Plants, that’s what they had been talking about. He was fairly certain the Jedi hadn’t just been talking about plants though.

‘They are truly skilled gardeners.’ He replied, turning away from the plants. He couldn’t stand these double meanings and hidden conversations. He wondered if the Jedi were aware how similar they were to the Sith in that aspect. Instead of looking at the plants he instead faced the city; the skies were quiet, perhaps the citizens hid as the very foundations of the galaxy were shaken around them. They hadn’t hidden when the empire was formed, although the action had preceded the politics in that instance, and they perhaps had been less wary, not yet aware of just how inconsequential their lives were. Yoda hummed behind him, and this time it was Qui Gon Jinn who stepped up next to him.

The man had a strange presence, not excessively powerful, but he was in sync with his surroundings in a way none of the others were. The force seemed to flow between him and his surroundings unfettered, probing at his nucleus of darkness like a curious child. He could almost imagine the plants leaning in towards the Jedi, and the Jedi’s presence reached out to them in return, soothing and offering healing. He was the embodiment of life, the living force, Vader had heard it called.

Perhaps he was the dead force. But death was cold, he knew what death felt like in the force only too well. His presence was certainly alive, hot and energetic, if anything those other Jedi were closer to the dead, with their cool, lethargic light.

‘How are you feeling?’ The Jedi asked, surprising Vader. He paused to consider the question, wondering if he would get a headache from wondering just what answer they were searching for.

‘Tired.’ He finally answered. That was neutral.

‘Yes, I would imagine.’ The Jedi answered wryly. ‘What do you plan to do now?’

‘Give the galaxy the cleanup it needs.’ He shrugged. A part of him imagined that he would spend the rest of his life doing that. He was under no illusions that the force made him immortal, eventually his luck would run out and it would be his ship that blew up.

‘Peacekeeping is hardly the usual occupation of the Sith.’ Commented Jinn.

‘Nor is handing over power to a democracy.’ He agreed.

‘No, I’d say those are the occupations of a Jedi.’ His head snapped around to stare at the Jedi.

‘What are you suggesting?’ He tried very hard not to snarl. A part of him glowed hopefully at the mere suggestion of the long forgotten dream but he quashed it rapidly, anger surging and quelling that little spark. They were cruel to raise his hopes so.

‘I was suggesting that perhaps we could work together.’ The Jedi said mildly. ‘Obi Wan has expressed an interest in working with you in the future.’

Vader was willing to bet that was Bantha Poodoo, Obi Wan had probably been told to work with him and being a good Jedi had agreed. No Jedi would willingly work with a Sith... master. He was a master now, not just a Lord, he had successfully killed his master and ascended to take his place.

‘I will hunt down the other Sith first.’ He decided. ‘They must join the New Republic, or die.’

‘Will you reform the Sith?’ It was a strange idea, one he hadn’t considered and one he found himself strangely liking. He didn’t deny Sidious had been inherently evil, as were all who followed him, but the dark side was not; it was a powerful, addictive tool but it could be wielded any way the user saw fit. Perhaps with the right training, the Sith could become as great a force for good as the Jedi. Powerful yet integrated into society and grounded in real life in a way the Jedi couldn’t be without risking attachment.

‘Perhaps, not in the way it was. I don’t really know.’ He could practically hear the clenching of jaws around him. That was not the answer the Jedi had been looking for. ‘I have been taught to channel negative emotions into the forc; I don’t see why one cannot channel positive emotions, which would have a profoundly different effect. I need to experiment, to learn and then consider the effect of what I know on the galaxy.’

‘Accompany you, Obi Wan will.’ Yoda said from behind him, ‘what you learn, valuable it may be to us as well.’ The Jedi masters around him gaped disbelievingly. The short master tapped their shins with his stick in a manner that could only be called scolding.

‘Mourn the Jedi the galaxy did not, so appreciated we were not. Change we must, if useful we are to become again. A long time this war between Jedi and Sith had continued, perhaps time to accept one another it is.’

‘I agree, Master Yoda.’ Obi Wan said quietly. He stood slightly back from the group, clearly not used to being among such influential members of his order. ‘This war between our two orders has torn the galaxy apart more times than we can remember.’

‘Wise you are, Knight Kenobi. A good team you and Master Vader will make if unite the force you can.’

‘There is an old Sith legend of one born of the force itself who will bring balance. My master always believed balance meant destroying the light, but I believe perhaps he might have been wrong on that count.’ Vader mentioned, noticing the look the Jedi shared.

‘We have a similar prophesy. Are you claiming to be this chosen one?’ Shaak Tii demanded sharply. Vader smiled wryly.

‘I am not claiming, I am stating a fact. My mother was still a virgin when I was born.’


	13. The New Order

It was surreal, seeing the changes in the senate. Her pod was occupied by Captain Panaka, who had once been her Chief of Security. He was a military man, and a good choice during the time of the Empire. She brushed her fingers over the cool metal of the pod, unfamiliar dings marking where Panaka’s bracers had hit the edge when he touched the controls. The seat had been reupholstered, the embroidered logo of the republic had been replaced by plain, soft leather – real leather, not the fake stuff that one usually saw. It was an unnecessary extravagance, similar to the opulent dresses she had once worn, that now made her feel awkward and uncomfortable, as though she were an actress on a set.

She left regretfully, knowing that she would not be taking up Panaka’s offer to return to her post. She fingered the ochre and coral beads of her decorative belt, then ran her hands down the deep green silk of her skirt. Her slippers padded almost silently on the thickly carpeted floor, muffling the conversation of the senators she passed. None of them greeted her, her friends and allies having long been removed by the empire.

She found her way back to the speeder she had been assigned – the imperial logo hastily covered, and allowed the driver to take her to the second stop on her schedule. She had been staying aboard Vader’s ship when the officer approached her to let her know that her apartment in 500 Republica had been released from imperial custody.

She’d assumed the building was lost, perhaps sold or gifted to some sycophant, so it had been a surprise to hear that it still belonged to her after four years.

The codes were the same, the pad chiming happily as she pressed the buttons in the correct order and the doors slid open with a faintly familiar hiss.

It was like stepping into the past, everything was exactly as she had left it on the day she fled. She bent and picked up the data pads that lay across the floor, remembering the moment she had knocked them as her handmaidens rushed her from the room. The batteries were flat, but the cleaning droids had kept everything clean. She moved further into the room, her fingers brushing the domed lights and sleek furniture. Her eyes roved over the skyline, noting the changes and the gaping hole where the Jedi temple, and later the imperial palace had once stood. She fixed momentarily on the dark arrowhead of _The Executor_ , hanging low enough in the atmosphere that she could make out the bridge. Higher up, glinting like stars were the rest of Death Squadron.

‘Is it to your liking?’

She stifled her squeak by clamping her hands to her mouth, spinning to find Vader had entered silently. He looked better than when she had last seen him – his skin had regained some colour, which made his yellow eyes look less sickly, more like molten gold. He wore the same outfit as before, like a Jedi but dark.

‘It feels like part of another time.’ She replied, casting her eyes once more around the room. She wondered if he had visited before – he hadn’t been on Coruscant when she fled and she didn’t know if she would have been worth a visit from the Supreme Commander anyway.

‘I came to offer you a position, should you want to take it.’ He said after regarding her with an almost eerie Jedi calm.

‘A position?’ She couldn’t possibly imagine what position he would have to offer her, she was not a military officer and he had made it quite clear that he intended to remain in the military.

‘A representative of the senate to the Sith and Jedi.’

‘Would one of you not be better suited to the job?’ She queried, surprised.

‘We are not politicians.’ He said, sounding almost slightly smug. Padmé led him through into the living room, sinking onto one of the couches.

‘What would this involve?’

‘To begin with, reporting back to the senate as we hunt down the remaining imperial forces. Kenobi and myself will form a joint task force aboard _The Executor_ to track down Sidious’ other agents, whilst the Jedi begin rebuilding their temple. Once things have settled down, you will act as our voice in the senate and their voice in the jed... in our council.’ He explained.

So she would be accompanying them to war, a Jedi and a Sith working together for the Republic, but war all the same. She would be stationed on a large battleship, perhaps more comfortable than the Rebel bases had been but she doubted she would remain on the ship all the time, so more fighting, inhospitable planets and devastation. The terrible fear during space battles, the devastation planet side – orphans, ruined buildings, ruined bodies, destroyed lives. Yet hadn’t she been saying earlier that she felt out of place in the senate, in her fine dresses and elegant hair? Didn’t she want to be a driving force in the New Republic? Engineering the relationship between the New Jedi and Sith orders and the New Republic was certain to fulfil her in that capacity.

‘I think I will accept.’ She said and a pleased grin spread across his face.

‘Your first assignment is to visit the temple with the Jedi, assess what needs to be done and submit an initial budget to the Senate for approval.’ That was something she could do, budgets and projects, garnering support and funding was certainly something she could achieve.

She was surprised when he accompanied her, a speeder that was so illegally overpowered that it could only be his parked next to the standard one she had been using. They soared from the hangar with a roar of huge engines, wind whipped through her braided hair and the beaded strands in her hair lashed her back and face. They must have been catching him too, because he slowed quickly to safer speeds, and the roar of wind quietened quickly. That made the ride no safer though, as he wove them through the traffic lanes and buildings, between walkways and levels. She clutched the door, confident in his abilities but feeling no less queasy for it.

Emerging into the void where the palace had once stood was a shock the light that streamed into the lower levels blinding. It lit areas that hadn’t seen natural light in centuries, revealing strange flora in nooks and crannies. The Jedi temple emerged through the rubble below, creamy tan stone crawling with a hive of droids. Work ships and barges thronged the air, using tractor beams to lift massive slabs of rock. Vader landed their speeder on a sheet of stone which cooled in an almost organic form, testament to the heat of the lasers he had unleashed upon the palace.

He helped her out, a flurry of dust swirling over them and leaving his black robes speckled with white and disturbing the dust that had disguised a speeder nearby. She tucked her nose into her elbow and squinted her eyes as another breeze whipped more dust into the air. Like a ghost, a figure emerged from the dust. She blinked rapidly, clearing the grit from her eyes as the dust once more settled. The figure unwrapped a scarf from around his face, his robes shedding ash and stone dust as he did.

‘Vader, Padme.’ Obi Wan Kenobi greeted, nodding warmly to her. She nodded in reply, returning the greeting as the Jedi led them behind a hidden speeder, Vader’s quickly becoming obscured behind them. From this low the ruins blocked the city from view, anywhere where a peek might have been caught was blocked by clouds of swirling dust thrown up by the work and constant wind. She could have been in the outer rim for all this landscape reminded her of Coruscant; perhaps Ronika, with its grinding of heavy machinery and the teeming hordes of droids.

‘The lowest levels are still largely intact.’ Obi Wan shouted over the noise of a barge that soared over their heads. The small group paused, eyes clenched and trying not to breathe as the repulsors threw up dust around them. When she opened them again, she realised there was a hole cut into the rock floor – a dark chasm in the otherwise pale landscape. The edges were rough and unevenly cut, perhaps by lightsaber. She peered down into the darkness, managing to make out a very dim light that looked awfully far away.

‘May I give you a lift, senator?’ Obi Wan asked politely, but Vader just snorted, sweeping her up bridal style in his arms. She squealed in protest, which was cut off sharply as he jumped through the hole and left her stomach behind. For a moment they freefell, then they stopped abruptly as he landed catlike by the pale, now close, light. Her heart started beating again and she found herself gasping for air as he set her back on her feet. Obi Wan landed beside them in a flap of robes with a soft huff of air. She stabilised herself against Vader’s still present arm and took a first look around.

They were in a corridor of some sort, the hole they had come through a square of light in a distant ceiling. A battery light glowed coldly beside them, casting an uncertain ghostly light for a couple of meters around them. Otherwise, they were an island of light in an ocean of darkness.

Obi Wan flicked on a flashlight, spotlighting a dusty ochre carpet on the floor.

‘The Jedi didn’t use these levels; we doubt anyone has used these corridors in over 1000 years.’ He explained, shining his light around to show the cream walls.

‘I imagine there are many things hidden in these depths that the Jedi would wish to forget.’ Vader commented, and Padmé caught Obi Wan’s wince.

‘It is a relic of a different age.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Padmé asked curiously, finding herself suddenly fixed with the amused golden gaze of Vader.

‘The Jedi were not always a benevolent order. They used to be far more similar to the Sith; Jedi Lords, hereditary positions of power of planets and systems. They defeated the Brotherhood of Darkness eventually and it all became quite an embarrassment. They didn’t want to admit they had been so like us, but at the same time were afraid to let go of all their more warlike methods in case the Sith came back.’ He sounded almost patronising, and to Padmé’s surprise Obi Wan didn’t deny anything he said.

‘What kind of methods?’ She whispered.

‘How do you think Sidious had the infrastructure for dealing with Jedi obtained so quickly?’ He smirked, leaving Padmé dumbstruck as he strode off into the darkness.

‘Is that true?’ She asked Obi Wan uncertainly. The Jedi heaved a heavy sigh.

‘It is, but I believe nobody knew such terrible machines had ever existed down here.’


	14. A Youngling

The halls of the lower levels of the Jedi temple were neutral, not the familiar darkness of the imperial palace that had once stood above, nor the blinding light that had shrouded the building when he marched up it years ago. Perhaps it was because the two had cancelled one another out, but it had taken the slaughter of thousands to quell the light of the upper levels. He was more inclined to believe that the light had never managed to take hold here, perhaps that it had been quashed centuries ago by the terrible deeds performed in these corridors.

He could feel it growing though. Hope, whispers of it glowing across the walls and floor, twining with his own dark signature. The younglings had arrived, he could feel them, bright sparks that probed curiously in his direction before recoiling in fear. He paused as one signature continued its probing, unafraid. He probed back, surprised when the signature still didn’t retreat, instead opening up like a book before him. It was a youngling, alien certainly and perhaps female – some alien species made it difficult to tell, particularly those with a third gender. He got a vague impression of a location, a glimpse of a room full of other children, all of whom this person found incredibly boring. He withdrew quickly as Padmé and Obi Wan Kenobi caught up from behind.

‘...it will take considerable rebuilding to return the temple to how it was. However, Master Yoda believes that we should make some changes to reflect the union between the two sides of the force.’ Kenobi was explaining to Padmé. The senator nodded along with him, considering what he was saying.

‘Do we have a time scale yet?’ She asked, and the Jedi Knight shrugged. Vader allowed the conversation to register in the back of his mind, focusing instead on imagining what he would imagine a sith temple to look like. Immediately the split pyramid of Korriban jumped to mind, but he was unable to picture that in the urban setting of Coruscant.

The younling was still probing him, as though expecting entry after she had granted him entry to her own mind. He sneered and sent a tendril of his dark presence lashing out at her. The presence recoiled satisfyingly and he almost allowed himself a smug smile when the youngling recovered and went right back to probing him. With a barely contained snarl he stormed off down a side corridor in her direction; the council would have to wait, he needed to find this youngling and teach her a lesson.

The force guided him through the massive corridors without hesitation, stilling a nagging that he hadn’t even noticed until it was gone. Padmé and Obi Wan’s voices faded behind him, perhaps not even noticing that he had taken a different route in the darkness. A light grew around the corner, the walls and carpet becoming monochromatic, stark patches of different greys. The sound of many children became audible quickly, growing from a faint high pitch to a rumble, then he emerged into a well lit room.

It was large, and full of children sitting cross legged in groups. A hush fell across the room, spreading from the point he had entered at. Even the youngest Jedi knew a disciple of the dark side when they saw one. A Jedi hurried over, his tentacles curling around his collar in worry.

‘The council did not inform me that you were coming.’ He muttered, perhaps hoping that he wouldn’t be overheard.

‘I am searching for a youngling. Alien, female and with a strong connection to the force.’ He slipped automatically into the tone he had used as Supreme Commander, used to treating everyone else as inferior, and inferior this Jedi certainly was. It was remarkable that he had managed to survive the purge at all with such low potential.

He reached out again, searching for that glowing presence but it had thoroughly retreated, blending almost seamlessly into starlight of the children. The faces before him were pale without exception from a lifetime underground, none gaunt but certainly not with excess weight. Their clothes were old but well cared for and clean, neater than any ordinary child. His eyes swept across the children again, fixing more intently on the aliens.

That was her. He was certain of it; a Togruta, perhaps thirteen, fifteen at the most. She wore red and purple native dress, a string of beads around her montrals that he knew signified her as a Jedi Padawan as well as a subtly worn headdress of giant teeth. In the force she was a ball of light, larger than those around her but with a strange sense of melancholy.

Their eyes met across the space, blue and yellow, and this time she cowered. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t realised who he was when they touched in the force. Perhaps she was not as well trained as someone of her age should be, or, perhaps considering her presence among these younglings, her training had been cut short. He memorised her signature, knowing that he would find her at a different time to teach his lesson – now was not the time or place, particularly in light of his recent agreements with the republic. It might be misconstrued.

He turned away, leaving the young Padawan with just their brief eye contact and perhaps the knowledge that he would be coming for her.

The council waited for him in one of the smaller rooms which was equipped with an ancient holoprojector. Perhaps it had once been a classroom, or a briefing room, although he found the former far more likely. Well, he was enough of an example that humble beginnings did not disqualify remarkable ends.

They were crowded into the darkened room, sitting in a rough circle on old metal chairs. A single hummed and glowed above them, flickering every second to remind them that it was near the end of its battery life. The light it created was cold and uncertain, throwing everything into stark contrast. There were five Masters, all of whose images and histories were imprinted in his mind from years of hunting them. Beside them sat Padmé, and behind her waited Obi Wan Kenobi. Somehow the senator – representative- managed to pull off the chair, perched elegantly upon it as though it were a throne.

‘Ah, Master Vader, glad that you could join us we are. Satisfy your curiosity you did?’ Yoda hummed, tapping his cane against the floor. He looked amused despite the completely contrary expressions of his peers.

‘I did.’ He replied shortly.

‘We were discussing a new name.’ Windu gritted out, sounding less than happy about that.

‘We believe that the Jedi Order should receive a new name, to represent the union between Jedi and Sith in the order and promote a greater neutrality to all parties of the galaxy.’ Padmé explained, fingering that beaded belt she wore again. She was reasonably dressed for a senator, far better than the impractical outfits she had once worn. He actually rather liked the way her hair hung loose and wavy to her waist, apart from that beaded band which held it away from her face and the long strands that framed her face.

‘Yes.’ He agreed, deciding that he really didn’t have the patience or talent for this kind of thing.

For several minutes names were suggested, mostly by Padmé and Obi Wan Kenobi. He shook his head to most of them, drawing the force around him in the hopes that he could just meditate his way through this. Perhaps by the time he came back to the present it would all be over.

‘The Je’daii Order,’ He said, hardly realising his lips had moved. ‘That was the name we went by before the divide.’

Everyone looked at him in surprise, and his face wrinkled into a sneer.

‘I think that’s good. The Je’daii Order it is.’ Padmé said neutrally, her expression smoothing into a mask.

His contribution to the meeting had actually been rather simple; he had a list of architects to deliver to the Jedi for their perusal, ones that he had already approved of. The Emperor had required meticulous records be kept, so he had easily gained access to the lists of architects that had been consisted in the initial modifications of the palace. 

‘In the mean time...’ He interrupted, not particularly caring what the others had been talking about at the time. ‘I plan to chase up those who operated below me before they have a chance to gain support.’

‘We were aware of that.’ Windu commented dryly and Vader struggled to restrain the lashing of the dark side as it threatened to destroy the subject of his hate. Imagining lightning surging from his fingertips and crackling across the Jedi’s skin did little to appease the hungry beast.

‘Tarkin was in orbit around Geonosis overseeing the construction of a superweapon, Darth Tyranus was on leave on Serenno, his home planet. I believe those two have the highest probability of forming a resistance.’ He used the force to switch on the scanner and slipped a data chip into the slot. There was an grinding crunch, followed by a clattering series of ticks before a hologram of the galaxy flickered to life.

‘The Emperor did not trust Tarkin to not use the super weapon against him if given the chance, so he kept the plans for the final stage to make it operational on Scarif, under the command of someone else. I believe we need to secure – destroy- this station before it become operational.’

‘What kind of superweapon are we talking about here?’ Windu growled.

‘It was called the Death Star, a battle station with the firepower to destroy a whole planet in a single blast.’ He replied somberly.


End file.
